Creatures of the Night
by Lyrical Ballads
Summary: [COMPLETE] It's 1923. Lillian lives a double life, volunteering at an orphanage during the day and slumming the streets of Cairo at night, until her old friend Rick O'Connell shows up at her door and gives her a priceless artifact. A twist on the popular Rick's-best-friend-from-the-orphanage plot!
1. When the Sun Goes Down

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mummy_.

**Author's Note: **This has been sitting around on my computer for a couple of months now, because I wasn't sure what to do with it. I think I've finally got the basics of a plot worked out, though, so here it is at last! I love taking overdone plots and finding new ways to explore them. I already turned the Rick's sister plot completely on its head with _Diamonds are Forever, _another story of mine, so this time I'm tackling another popular cliche: the Rick's-female-friend-from-the-orphanage plot. If you're looking for another cross-dressing, gun-wielding tomboy who joins the Legion, you definitely won't find her here!

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**Creatures of the Night**

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When the Sun Goes Down

_Cairo, 1923_

Daylight was fading from the city. She liked to stand at her bedroom window and pull back the curtains so she could watch the brilliant, cloudless blue sky transform to inky darkness. She liked to say farewell to the sun and welcome the night. The window curtains, which stood guard over the window at all hours of the day until the sun made its final retreat, used to be a soft, creamy white, like the clouds that settled over other cities but rarely came to rest over Cairo. The white fabric was now stained with cigarette smoke, but she hardly noticed anymore. She hardly cared.

She watched the sun start to set over the domed mosques and run-down buildings of her neighborhood, where men in turbans and women in veils prayed to Allah, ate their meals, and scolded their scrawny, unruly children. Soon the playful shrieks of those children would disappear with the setting sun and the sounds of the night would take their place; the sounds of thieves and cutthroats, of drunkards and dope fiends, of loose women and dishonorable men. The daylight hid the worst sides of these people, but as soon as the sun went down the masks fell away and the demons came out, ready for another wild evening.

She saw the first stars appear and absently fingered the top button of her sensible blouse. A blouse that belonged to a good girl who lived in the daylight. An imposter. The button came loose under her restless fingers and she swiftly undid the rest of them, savoring the feel of air on her exposed skin. Somebody cat-called down below, but she paid no mind to the men on the street. They could shout and whistle at her all they liked.

The modest little blouse slipped to the floor and she stepped away from the window, knowing it wouldn't be long until the last straggling rays of sunlight faded completely from view, swallowed whole by the dark of the night. She removed her sensible skirt so that only her stockings and garters covered her legs, then tossed the ankle-length, mouse-colored skirt so that it landed on the discarded blouse. Those clothes belonged to the daytime. They belonged to a world where she wore a prim, proper smile to mask the demons within, where people thought she was a lady and called her Miss Murray out of respect. A world where she read to orphans three days a week, even though the daughter of wealthy parents didn't need to spend her hours in a bare little schoolroom with Cairo's unwanted children. Where people thought she was modest and well-behaved. Chaste. Virginal.

But Lillian Murray was none of those things when the sun went down and the night took its place. Tonight Lillian Murray was a minx. A vixen. A nightly specter in her undergarments, just waiting to paint her lips with the color of sin and clothe herself in garments that walked in the deepest, darkest nightmares of the nuns at Saint Elizabeth's Orphanage. Perhaps she would change into one of those new dresses she finished making last week, something black and a little scandalous, but for now she was content to stand about in her underwear, catching glimpses of herself in the mirror above her vanity table.

She could see her garters reflected in the glass. She heard that women in America kept flasks of liquor hidden beneath their dresses, held in place by their garters so the cops wouldn't find them. She heard that women in America stayed out all night in illegal bars, dancing to an exotic music called jazz.

Lillian didn't own a radio and had never heard a jazz band, but she liked the sound of the word. _Jazz._ It sounded like the night. Like something forbidden and beautiful. It prompted her to pull out the daring black dress that just barely reached her knees and left her arms entirely bare. She felt a little foolish, getting all dressed up with no intention of going out, but she knew that _he_ would like it, for the nighttime was when _he_ came skulking up the apartment stairs and into her room, where she let him do what he liked with her.

She sat down at the vanity table and looked at her tired reflection. She saw dark red hair like her Scottish father's and plain brown eyes like her American mother's, but she also saw something else, something that neither of her parents would ever have. A darkness that urged her to rent an apartment in a poor part of town, that made her dress like a harlot beneath her own roof, that allowed her to give herself to a despicable man every night.

She painted her lips cherry red and darkened her eyes like the pictures she had seen in _Vogue_ magazine. She wouldn't be dancing to any jazz that night, but she would certainly raise hell with a man whose soul was ugly as sin, and whose face wasn't much better.

A man like that was unlovable. Unlikeable, even, but Lillian didn't mind him the way most people did. The nuns at Saint Elizabeth's would have heart attacks if they knew she consorted with the likes of _him_, but the nuns would never know where she spent her time when she was finished being Miss Murray for the day. They would never know anything about her outside of the innocent face she presented to the orphans.

She stepped out of her bedroom and into the main room, aware of what luxury she possessed in such a poor neighborhood. Some of the people who lived on these streets had to fit whole families into one room. She was lucky enough to have three. Lucky to have money to waste on an apartment she didn't need, when she had a perfectly good set of parents with a perfectly good home that was always open to her, no matter how old she got. She stood close to the front door and thought she heard footsteps outside, though it could have been the night playing tricks on her ears.

She was a little surprised to hear footsteps so soon, whether they were real or not. He rarely arrived this early.

A sharp knock on the door raised her suspicions, sending her nerves on edge. He never knocked, not when he had his own key that he shoved into the rusty lock whenever he pleased. He didn't believe in knocking, anyway; he thought that everything was free for the taking, and that private property didn't exist when he could easily trespass all over it.

The knock came again, louder this time. The knock of a stranger.

If it was daytime, she might have grabbed a jacket to cover herself up, but night had arrived in full force, settling into every corner of her soul. The nighttime knew no shame, no modesty. It approved of bright cherry lips and bare white arms, of short black skirts and tempting necklines. Lillian embraced the night and opened the door, revealing herself to the stranger who stood outside.

Except the stranger wasn't a stranger at all.

"Rick!" The name escaped her lips in a little gasp. She was hardly aware that she had spoken at all.

Rick O'Connell was the same as ever, yet he had changed from that mischievous little orphan boy who had once lived at Saint Elizabeth's. He had changed from that restless young man who fought for six months in a war he didn't believe in, for a country that was his birthplace but never his home. Lillian could only stand in her doorway and stare, wondering if Rick's shoulders had always been so broad, or if his eyes had always been so blue. If three years had really passed since the last time she saw him.

"Lil." He seemed nervous, apologetic. "God, it's been ages. Look, uh, I think I got the wrong address. I'm looking for a man named Beni Gabor."

For the first time in months, she felt shame after the sun went down, but she couldn't lie to Rick. She could never lie to Rick. "This isn't the wrong address," she said, forcing herself to hold his gaze, to keep her head up high.

He didn't quite believe her. She didn't blame him.

"You want to come in?" she asked, desperate to fill in the awkward silence. Desperate to connect with an old friend who knew her before she started slumming in this miserable neighborhood, before she abandoned her morals and became a creature of the night.

She could see the uncertainty in his eyes. The faint stirrings of confusion behind that normally confidant face, but he shrugged his shoulders and answered her prayers with one little word: "Sure."


	2. The Souvenir

The Souvenir

Rick O'Connell was in her apartment. Lillian could hardly believe it, but there he was with the same tousled hair and honest eyes, trying to make himself comfortable as she showed him her home and attempted the bland, feeble sort of small talk that said everything and nothing at all. The sort of small talk that happened between strangers, not two people who had known each other since childhood. She _felt_ like a stranger, all dolled up with her black-rimmed eyes, cherry-red mouth, and bold flapper dress, and she caught Rick staring at her when she directed him to the nicest chair in her small apartment.

Neither of them mentioned Beni's name, though she could feel Beni's presence in the unspoken words that neither of them dared to utter. She wondered how Rick was acquainted with Beni and she knew he was wondering the same thing about her, but the subject was too delicate, too dangerous to approach right away. Beni would spoil this unexpected reunion, whether they mentioned him or not. She dreaded the sound of his footsteps in the hall.

Rick kept staring at her as if he didn't know her, as if their separation of three years had been three decades instead. "You cut your hair," he remarked.

She self-consciously touched the dark red bob that had once been a shoulder-length mane of curls. "Last year," she said. "Do you like it?"

"It's different," he said.

"Can I get you something to drink? I think I've still got some Merlot in the cupboard."

How polite she was, offering a drink to her guest. Her _guest_. She had never offered a drink to Rick O'Connell in her life and had certainly never considered him a guest under her roof. He looked so strong and tall, even when he was sunk into the depths of her chair, yet he seemed tired as he flashed a sheepish half-smile and declined her offer of Merlot. He seemed more tired than she had ever seen him before.

Lillian needed a cigarette. "Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked.

"You never used to smoke."

"You haven't seen me in three years, Rick. I do plenty of things I never used to do."

"I can see that." He was staring at her again, his eyes fixed upon her white arms. "What are you doing here, Lil?"

She longed for the distraction a cigarette would provide, but she couldn't bring herself to light one and tried her best to meet Rick's eyes without giving too much away. "I wanted a change of scenery."

"So you moved in with Beni Gabor?"

She felt her heart thump uncomfortably against her chest. It felt wrong for _his _name to come out of Rick's mouth. "I don't live with him," she said calmly. "Beni lives with _me_. The apartment's mine."

"How do you know Beni, anyway?" Rick asked, making her feel like even more of a stranger from the way he looked at her, like she was some otherworldly creature in human disguise.

"It's hard to explain," said Lillian. "How do _you_ know him?"

"We were in the French Foreign Legion together. Ever heard of Hamunaptra?"

"Sure I have. It's a silly old myth."

"Did Beni tell you that?"

She stiffened in her seat, uncomfortable under his gaze. "Maybe he did. Does it matter?"

"Yeah, Lil. It matters. Where is he?"

"I don't know. I don't keep track of what he does, but he usually comes here before the night is over."

"When do you think he'll be here, then?"

Lillian wished he had never asked about Beni. She didn't want Beni to be part of _their_ reunion. "He could be here in five minutes. He could also be here in an hour, or three hours. You're better off coming back tomorrow morning."

"You're sure he'll be here?" said Rick.

"Guarantee it."

He didn't look convinced. "I don't know..."

"Why don't we go out for a bit, have dinner, and see if he's here when we get back?" Lillian suggested. Her apartment had never felt so oppressive, so gloomy and unpleasant. "It's been a long time, Rick. I think you owe me."

He looked down at his lap, then back into her eyes. "Yeah. It _has_ been a long time."

She didn't have to convince him any further. Lillian excused herself to quickly pull on a cardigan, hiding herself from Rick's curious eyes, and pushed all her worries about Beni to the back of her mind as she closed up her apartment and led Rick into the night. They would both deal with Beni when the time came. Rick barely said a word when she showed him to her car, a nondescript Ford that took the place of the flashy Cadillac she used to drive, and he remained silent the entire time she drove down the narrow little streets, through alleys littered with garbage and drunkards, shadowy lanes full of market stalls closed for the night, and finally a respectable stretch of road that led to a restaurant she and Rick used to enjoy three years ago, before he said farewell to Lillian and walked out of her life in search of adventure.

He must have found trouble as well, if he served in the Legion. Lillian was dying to know what Rick had seen and done over the years, but he had never been much of a talker and would tell her in his own way, on his own time, and not a moment sooner.

"What are you still doing in Egypt?" he asked as Lillian parked the car. "You always used to talk about going to America and becoming an actress."

"Did I?" said Lillian, looking down at the steering wheel instead of his face. "I guess I changed my mind."

Rick didn't press the matter and helped her out of the car, just like he used to do when they went out for drinks together. She held onto Rick's arm as they walked into the restaurant and quickly felt better, taking comfort in how solid he felt, as if being close to him could banish all the ugliness in her life. She didn't order any alcohol for once and sat across from Rick, trying hard not to stare at him.

"Why did you ask me about Hamunaptra earlier?" she asked.

"Because I was there," said Rick.

She broke into a grin. "That's impossible. Hamunaptra isn't real."

"Yeah, I thought so too, but the place is real enough. I was there four months ago." Rick's voice grew harder. "So was Beni."

"Why do you want to talk to him so badly?"

"I've been hearing rumors. They say there's a guy who knows how to find Hamunaptra, and he'll take anyone out there who's willing to pay a lot of money. He took some tourists and they never came back."

Lillian didn't know anything about trips to Hamunaptra, though she remembered Beni had come home very smug a couple of times, bragging about a large sum of money he got from some suckers. Only he didn't say "suckers" exactly. He had to ask Lillian to supply the word, like he always did when he tried to use English slang and came up short. "You think Beni is behind this?" she asked.

"I _know_ he's behind this," said Rick. "I've been asking around. That's how I got your address."

A waiter came to take their orders, interrupting a conversation that was far from over, and Lillian kept her eyes on her menu, seeing it without truly reading it. Her mind whirled with everything she had learned, trying to accept the fact that Rick was back in town, Hamunaptra was real, and Beni had known Rick all this time and never mentioned him. The waiter, finished with Rick, waited for her to give him an order, and she blurted out the first thing her eyes landed on, impatient for the man to leave. He finally did leave, lured away by other hungry patrons, and Lillian forced herself to look up into Rick's face.

"About Beni..." she began.

"You don't have to explain," said Rick.

"But I want to. I — I met him in a bar about three or four months ago, probably not long after you saw Hamunaptra. He was tired and hungry and had no place to stay." She sighed. "And you know how it is, growing up with parents like mine. I couldn't turn him away."

"He has that effect on people," Rick murmured.

"And about the apartment..." She felt bolder, now that she had started getting the words off her chest. "I started renting that long before Beni came along. I wanted to see how the other half lives, as they say." Only two people knew the real reason she had rented the apartment, and thankfully they were both out of Egypt.

Rick just looked at her and didn't say a word, quietly accepting her explanation whether he believed it or not. Their meal was a quiet one and Lillian kept raising her eyes over her plate, taking subtle peeks at Rick and assuring herself that he was _real_. He had arrived at her apartment so suddenly, so unexpectedly, and yet he had been living in Cairo right under her nose, probably thinking she was long gone to America in pursuit of that foolish dream she abandoned long ago. She wasn't cut out to be an actress. She couldn't handle the idea of being on display, feeling a thousand judgmental eyes upon her.

When the waiter cleared their empty plates away, Lillian met Rick's eyes again, hoping he wouldn't be offended if she offered to pay the bill. It had been so long, and he looked _so_ tired...

"Here." Rick took something out of his pocket and set it on the table, right in front of Lillian. "I want you to have this."

Startled, she picked up the object and was surprised at how heavily it sat in her hand. It was a small box-like artifact with eight sides and strange markings that had to be Egyptian hieroglyphics, if her memories of all her museum visits served her correctly. The artifact looked old and she turned it over in her hands, feeling all of its intricately carved edges. "What is this?" she asked.

"Something I picked up in Hamunaptra," said Rick. "Think of it as a souvenir."

"I can't possibly take this."

"I don't need it," Rick said flatly.

Lillian didn't argue. "Thank you," she said, carefully placing the octagon in the bag she brought with her. "It's lovely."

"Least I could do," Rick muttered.

Perhaps that was his way of apologizing for the last three years, for taking off to foreign lands without writing a single letter. He helped Lillian out of her seat and held open the door of the restaurant, silently making up for all the times he wasn't there, and took her back out into the night where her car waited. Lillian thought she saw a dark shape lurking nearby, a man dressed all in black, but she put him out of her mind as she got into the driver's seat and took the wheel. She was used to dark shapes lurking about after sundown. They couldn't frighten her anymore.

She gave Rick a nervous smile and started to drive.


	3. Behind Closed Doors

Behind Closed Doors

The trip to her apartment ended too soon and Lillian remembered that Rick hadn't come to see _her_ at all. He was looking for Beni, though he still hadn't explained why he wanted to see him, and Lillian parked her car reluctantly, wishing she could keep Rick all to herself for another hour. Her street was dark, relying on the thin sliver of moon up above for its only light, since her neighborhood didn't have electricity, and she sat there with Rick in her parked car, each of them unsure how to begin now that their silent journey was over.

A man let out a whistle further down the street. Maudie, the English woman who sold herself to the white men of the neighborhood, probably stood on her usual corner tempting every wild, lonely man who caught sight of her. Lillian was suddenly embarrassed; not because of Maudie, who was kind in spite of her profession and occasionally had tea with Lillian when Beni wasn't around, but because it wouldn't take long for Rick to truly understand how far Lillian had fallen.

Rick shifted in the passenger seat, clearly restless. "Thanks for the, uh, the dinner," he said. "You think Beni's here yet?"

"I don't know," said Lillian. "He might be."

"He'd better be. Beni's had this comin' to him for a long time."

"He's not going to be happy to see you, is he?"

Rick gave her a grim smile. "No. He isn't."

Lillian wasn't sure if she wanted to be present for Rick and Beni's reunion. She still found it hard to believe that the two of them knew each other. "Why don't you talk to Beni alone?" she suggested, giving in to her own cowardice. "If he's there, I mean. I just... I think you should have some privacy."

"Yeah," Rick agreed. "Good idea."

She realized she was still gripping the steering wheel with both hands and relaxed her tight hold, then released the wheel so she could open her car door and slip out into the street. Her legs, clad only in a thin pair of stockings, immediately felt the cold desert air and Lillian shivered. She envied Rick's long trousers, though they looked like they had seen better days, and led the way to her apartment at a brisk walk to warm herself. She was greeted by the usual noise that came from her building night after night—the wail of a hungry infant, a glass bottle smashing against a wall, a man and woman arguing in a language that might have been French—and had to raise her voice to speak to Rick.

"I'll go inside first," she said. "If Beni's there, I'll come back out and let you know. Is that all right?"

"Just don't tell Beni I'm here," said Rick. "It'll be more fun if it's a surprise."

"You have a strange idea of fun," said Lillian, though she couldn't help but smile. She was so glad he hadn't changed. "I'll be right back."

Rick nodded, assuring her that he would wait, and Lillian dug out her key so she could unlock her apartment door. She discovered the door was already unlocked and slowly pushed her way inside, letting her eyes adjust to the glow that came from a kerosene lamp. The slam of a cupboard door told her that Beni was rummaging in the kitchen, his favorite pastime whenever he was home, and when she entered the kitchen she found him standing around with a bottle of Merlot clutched in one hand. The same bottle she had offered to Rick earlier that evening.

"What are you doing?" asked Lillian.

Beni rolled his eyes at her. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm thirsty."

"You don't need to be sarcastic. I was only asking a question."

"You ask a lot of questions," he complained. He was wearing a hat she hadn't seen before; a red fez that covered his dark strands of hair. He had probably stolen it.

"I only ask because I care," said Lillian. "That's what you do when you care about someone. You ask questions."

"_Ha_. You do not care about me. You are nice to me so you can feel better about yourself."

She couldn't come up with a reply. She had grown up with parents who were obsessed with helping the poor and reached out to Beni because she believed in charity, but his words weren't far from the truth. She watched Beni uncork the Merlot and drink straight from the bottle, so wrapped up in his own selfish needs that he forgot her entirely, and she retreated from the kitchen without bothering to respond. She was used to dealing with children, due to her volunteer work at the orphanage, and she knew exactly how to deal with Beni as well. Beni was nothing more than an overgrown child.

She drifted back to the front door and placed her hand on the knob, standing frozen for a moment as she listened to more rummaging sounds that came from the kitchen. She didn't know why Rick wanted to see Beni, but if Beni had something "coming to him," then he probably deserved it. She had lost count of how many times he had come scrambling into the apartment with wide, desperate eyes, claiming he needed to hide because somebody was angry with him. Beni had a natural gift for irritating people. He lied, cheated, stole, and made sarcastic little jibes that often earned him an attempted punch in the face or a kick to the ribs, which he usually managed to dodge.

Of course, Rick was no innocent either. Before he left to go adventuring, he often got into brawls and fistfights, and Lillian got the feeling that he _enjoyed_ getting into trouble. Years ago, when he was a strong-willed orphan boy at St. Elizabeth's, he was always causing mischief and driving the nuns to distraction with his antics. Lillian visited St. Elizabeth's often when she was a girl, since her charity-loving parents gave generous donations to the orphanage, and she found herself drawn into a friendship with Rick because he differed so greatly from her well-behaved brothers. Rick was the most fascinating boy she had ever met.

He still _was_ fascinating, after all the years she had known him. Lillian opened the door and beckoned to Rick, who waited in the hall with his arms crossed over his chest. "He's here," she whispered.

She didn't need to say any more. Rick let his arms relax at his sides and strode past her, entering her apartment with that strong self-assurance she had always envied, and Lillian took Rick's former place in the hall where she would wait until the confrontation was over. Rick had shut the door to the apartment as he disappeared inside, but Lillian knew the wood was thin and pressed her ear against the door so she could listen to Rick and Beni. She had already committed so many sins over the course of a year that a little eavesdropping couldn't possibly hurt.

At first she heard nothing at all, then heavy footsteps and a startled squeak that had to be Beni. Next came a crash, followed by the thud of something slammed against a wall.

"Thought you could hide from me, did ya, Beni?" Rick demanded.

"You cannot imagine how sorry I am, my friend!" Beni's voice was high and desperate, his words coming out in a rush. "It was all a mistake, I swear! I was so frightened—"

He was abruptly cut off by a crash that made Lillian wince. She hoped Rick didn't destroy her kitchen. After the noise subsided she heard them talking again, but she had to strain her ears and only caught bits and pieces of the conversation.

"—Oh, come on." That faint but unmistakeable whine was Beni. "I need the money."

She only heard the end of Rick's reply. "...won't always get away with this, Beni. One of those tourists might come crawling back."

Beni muttered something that caused another sharp thud and a startled whimper. Lillian wondered if she should interrupt them before her kitchen became a disaster. She was so worried about her apartment that she missed out on eavesdropping until Beni raised his voice in response to something Rick said.

"Of course I would not hurt her. You know I cannot hurt anyone."

"Yeah. That's what you like everyone to think, isn't it?"

"Why do you care, anyway? She is not yours to care about."

"She's an old friend of mine, _pal_, and you'll treat her right. You hear me?"

Lillian pulled away from the door, unable to listen further. She stood with her back against the wall, a safe distance from her apartment door, and focused on the various noises that came from her neighbors. An unexpected weariness settled over her; a weariness that surprised her when her body was used to staying awake past midnight, into the early morning hours, and she was just about to close her eyes when her door jerked open and familiar footsteps joined her in the hall.

She looked at Rick, feeling like an intruder in her own building. "Did you have fun?"

He raked a hand through his hair. "I might've gotten a little, uh, carried away."

"I'm sure he deserved it," she said quietly. "I know he's not a good person."

"He could be worse."

"Yeah. He could be." She had certainly known men worse than Beni. She glanced at her apartment door, which stood ajar, and wondered what Beni would do once he saw her again. If he wasn't happy with Rick, then he was probably furious with her.

Rick noticed the glance and frowned at her in concern. "Are you sure you—"

"Don't worry about it," she said, knowing what he intended to ask. "I can manage Beni. I'll be fine."

"If you say so." He looked restless, eager to escape the narrow hallway that closed in upon them both. "Guess I'll get going then..."

It finally occurred to Lillian that she had no idea where Rick had been living all this time, or how she could get in touch with him. "Wait," she said. "Where are you staying?"

"I'll come see you tomorrow," he said, evading her question. "How's afternoon sound?"

Lillian agreed, desperate to hold onto him any way she could, before he disappeared from her life again. "Good night, Rick," she said, and savored his words when he bid her the same farewell. She knew Beni waited for her inside the apartment, ready to play the helpless victim, but she put him out of her mind as she watched Rick's tall form stride to the end of the hall, where he soon vanished down the stairs and headed out to some unknown bed in a room she had never seen, somewhere in the wild foreign city they both called home.

She opened the door and slipped inside her apartment, fighting off the urge to follow him.


	4. Smoke and Shadows

_Note:_ This chapter contains some lines quoted from the play _Hamlet_, which belongs to William Shakespeare.

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Smoke and Shadows

Lillian's apartment was silent as she crept inside and shut the door behind her. The kerosene lamp continued to burn, throwing shadows against the cracked, yellowing walls, and her heart thumped against her chest as she made her careful way to the kitchen, unsure of what she would find. She doubted Rick would seriously hurt Beni under her roof, but it was so horribly _quiet_ after such a fuss had occurred just minutes before. Perhaps Beni escaped out a window and ran off to the nearest brothel, where some hungry, booze-addicted whore would take pity on him for the night in exchange for pennies. Perhaps Lillian was better off if he left and never came back.

She entered the kitchen, expecting to find disaster after all the ominous thuds and crashes she heard earlier, but she found nothing worse than an overturned chair and a broken bottle that lay in shards upon the floor. Wine pooled across the floor in a dark puddle, the only evidence that Beni had been in the kitchen at all, and Lillian found a couple of rags so she could clean it up. Another lamp burned in the kitchen, but it had miraculously remained intact during Rick and Beni's encounter, and she worked swiftly under the soft glow, careful not to get any stains on her black dress or any glass shards embedded in her palms. The silence remained, filling the tiny kitchen with an emptiness that weighed on her shoulders, and she put the used rags aside as soon as she finished cleaning. She wished Rick hadn't left so soon.

Finally she smelled it; a familiar odor that drifted into the kitchen and set her worries at rest. Somebody had lit a cigarette and she followed the smell of smoke until she stood at the threshold of her bedroom, pausing before the half-open door. She opened her mouth to announce her presence, then thought better of it and pushed the door so it opened all the way. The smoke was stronger than ever, unable to escape through the tightly closed window, and the room was dark since the only light came from the feeble moonlight outside. Still, she had no trouble identifying the smoky figure that sat on her bed, his back propped up by pillows as he took a lazy draw on his cigarette.

"What took you so long?" Beni asked. He still wore his red fez, the one he had probably stolen that day, and watched Lillian with suspicious eyes. "I have been waiting for you."

"I was cleaning up," she said. "Who spilled the wine?"

"That was O'Connell. He grabbed me and made me drop the bottle."

She dismissed his pathetic, whining tone, knowing she had felt sorry for him too many times already. Her own pity was her biggest weakness. She approached the bed and sat down next to Beni, breathing in the smoke he occasionally exhaled, and tried to think of something to say when Beni grabbed her wrist with his free hand. Lillian gasped, struggling against his grip. "Beni, what—"

"You know O'Connell," he said, glaring at her accusingly. "You let him in here."

"He said he wanted to talk to you."

"O'Connell doesn't _talk_. I will have bruises for weeks now."

She let her arm go limp, tired of struggling. Beni didn't release his grip and gazed at her with cold eyes, letting his forgotten cigarette smolder away.

"A few bruises doesn't mean it's the end of the world, Beni," she said wearily. "Anyway, he wouldn't have hurt you if you hadn't done... whatever it was you did to annoy him."

Beni let go of her wrist, though his eyes were as cold as ever. "How do you know O'Connell? Was he your boyfriend?"

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean, not exactly? That doesn't make sense."

"It's hard to explain."

He made a derisive little noise and leaned further into the pillows that supported his back. His gaze drifted from Lillian's face and landed on his cigarette, which he immediately began puffing on once more. Lillian watched him for a moment, her eyes drawn to the orange tip of his cigarette that stood out in the darkness, and got up so she could change into something more comfortable. The night had dragged on long enough.

Beni's voice stopped her in her tracks. "Did you screw him?"

She turned around and stared at him. "What?"

"Did you screw O'Connell?"

"No."

"Good." Beni scratched his head with his free hand, then resumed smoking his cigarette. Lillian continued to stare.

"You don't have lice again, do you?" she asked.

"Why the hell would I have lice?"

"You scratched your head just now."

"That means nothing."

It certainly didn't mean nothing. Beni brought lice home just a month ago—though he spent days denying it, despite the evidence right in front of him—and Lillian wasn't going to go through with that again if she could help it. "Let me check your head."

"No," said Beni.

"Please, Beni. I don't want lice again."

"I'm busy."

"You're sitting around smoking."

"And I'm busy doing it."

Lillian snatched the fez off of Beni's head and fetched the lamp from the other room so she could check him for lice. He fought her at first, but once he realized that her inspection wouldn't interrupt his smoking, he relaxed and let her get to work. "You won't find anything," he said.

"That's what _you_ think. I'm not taking any chances."

"Since when do you care about things like that?"

She cared since Rick came back and exposed the shame she had tucked out of sight long ago. Bad enough that Rick knew she shared an apartment with Beni in a poor neighborhood littered with riffraff; he didn't need to know about the lice as well. To Lillian's surprise and relief, she didn't find any of the pesky little bugs on Beni's scalp and set the lamp on the dresser so she could put it out, allowing her room to be dark once more. She felt too exposed, too aware of every sordid detail when the lamp cast its light upon her sorry little room. Beni was always at his most tolerable in the dark, anyway. The dark softened all those imperfections that made him pathetically ugly in the daylight, though it did nothing to muffle that grating whine with the funny accent. Still, she could live with both his accent and his face. An ugly man who made no effort to hide his ugly personality was better than a handsome, charming man who showed the world his best side in order to deceive. There was something rather refreshing about Beni's willingness to be awful no matter who was watching him.

She kicked off her shoes, letting them remain where they landed, and got into her side of the bed. She faced the window, away from Beni and his cigarette, and stared at the bright sliver of moon that shone outside. Her eyes grew heavy and a snatch of verse came into her mind as she closed her eyes halfway and kept her sleepy gaze fixed on the window, no longer staring at the moon, but at nothing.

"To die, to sleep; — To sleep, perchance to dream," she murmured to herself. "Ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come."

She used to believe in those words, just a little bit on melancholy days, but now they sounded hollow. She wanted to live now that Rick was back. She wanted to regain the part of herself that had withered away, unable to cope with the shallow hypocrisies of her old world.

"What was that you were saying?" Beni asked. "More of your precious Shakespeare?"

"It was from _Hamlet_," said Lillian. "I haven't read that one to you yet."

She often read to Beni from Shakespeake's plays, though she had to constantly stop and explain everything. Shakespeare's English was entirely foreign to a man like Beni, who had grown up speaking Hungarian, and Lillian rather enjoyed explaining the plays to him. His reactions to particularly strange words always amused her. She closed her eyes all the way and tried to relax, but sleep evaded her. Beni shifted beside her and put out his cigarette in the ashtray beside the bed, then settled back against his pillows.

"I know Hamunaptra's real," Lillian spoke up.

"What?" said Beni.

"You always told me that Hamunaptra isn't real, but I know you've been there."

"What does it matter? There is nothing in Hamunaptra."

"If there's nothing, then why do you take tourists out there?"

"To make money, of course," Beni said impatiently. "Why else would I do it? People like O'Connell try to tell me that it's wrong, but they are just upset they never thought of the idea first. O'Connell likes to act like he has morals just to make himself look good."

Lillian wanted to laugh at Beni's skewed perception of Rick. He would never know Rick the way she did, no matter how many months he traveled with him in the Legion, and the thought gave her comfort. She had given Beni so much, but she still had a little something that he could never have. She realized that she never changed out of her dress, but she no longer cared and emptied her mind, tired of talking and thinking after such a strange, exciting evening. The last thing she thought of was the ancient eight-sided box that Rick gave her at the restaurant; she had left it in her purse, having forgotten all about it, and she made a mental note to take it out tomorrow morning and put it someplace safe. Someplace private so that Beni wouldn't grab it and try to pawn it off on the nearest gullible tourist.

With that plan in mind, she finally drifted off to sleep.


	5. Morning After

Morning After

The sun rose with a vengeance the next morning, drenching Lillian's bedroom with light. Her window faced the sunshine, much to her annoyance, and she rolled over to avoid the bright rays that seeped through the thin fabric of her curtains. When her eyes fluttered open she found Beni's scrawny face a few inches from her own, his mouth half-open as he continued to sleep, and she savored each precious moment he spent trapped in slumber. She sat up slowly, hating the thick, dry taste in her mouth, and pushed a red lock of hair out of her eyes before getting out of bed and drawing the curtains just a little tighter. It didn't help much, but she liked to imagine that it did.

A glance into her vanity mirror gave her a twinge of horror. She looked frightful, her hair in disarray and her makeup smudged across her face, and she hurried out of her apartment and into the bathroom at the very end of the hall, where the tenants on her floor shared a leaky sink, a toilet, and a pair of copper tubs half the size of the grand porcelain bathtub she once enjoyed. She was crazy to abandon that privileged life, to suffer needlessly in a poor neighborhood that lacked comfort and security, but she would have also been crazy to stay in a world where she never lived up to her parents' expectations, where the man she nearly married had branded her a liar and a whore.

His words could no longer touch her. She would have never been happy with him anyway.

Lillian splashed cold water on her face, washing away the weariness, and remembered with a jolt of excitement that Rick was back, and that he had agreed to meet with her sometime soon. She didn't have to volunteer at the orphanage that day and had planned to spend her afternoon at the market, hoping to find some fabric to make herself a new skirt, but the market could wait. The market would always be there, ready to welcome her with its colorful goods and shifty-eyed venders, while Rick could vanish from her life in the blink of an eye.

She made the brief trek back to her room, which she had locked in case some unsavory neighbor decided to stroll by and lift a few things, and checked to see if Beni had awakened. He continued to sleep, sprawled out on his side with an innocence that might have fooled anyone who didn't know him. Lillian sent a bitter smile in Beni's direction, wishing he could be half as pleasant when he was awake, and turned her attention to the handbag that sat by her vanity table. She had left her souvenir from Rick inside the bag and knelt down to retrieve it from its hiding place, marveling at the eight-sided box with its mysterious hieroglyphics.

Her knowledge of ancient artifacts was limited. That was her brother Douglas' specialty, not hers, and she wished she had paid more attention when he used to drag her down to the museum to show her the latest piece that arrived. She had no idea what this little box was for, but its beauty captivated her and she knew it was valuable, especially if it came from the fabled land of Hamunaptra. She wouldn't dream of selling it, though. Rick had given her this strange artifact, and she would never part with any gift of Rick's.

"What is that?"

Still kneeling on the floor, she quickly shoved the box under her skirt and looked at Beni, who sat up in bed watching her. "I thought you were asleep," she said.

He gave her a tired smirk. "You are easily fooled. What was that thing you were holding?"

"Nothing."

"It did not look like nothing. It looked like gold."

"How could you tell?" Lillian retorted. "You're all the way over there."

"I know gold when I see it."

"Well it was nothing," she repeated. "What do you want for breakfast?"

He frowned, though the straggly strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes ruined the effect. "I don't care," he said. "Just as long as O'Connell doesn't come here again."

"He'll probably be here later."

"Then I will eat breakfast somewhere else."

"Really?" said Lillian, amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You would fend for yourself out there in the cruel, cruel world and spend your hard-earned money on food, when you could stay here and have everything handed to you for free?"

He grumbled something under his breath, gazing darkly at the rumpled blanket that covered his lower body.

"I thought so," said Lillian, glad that she had shifted his attention from the box hidden in her skirt. "Why don't you go wash up and I'll see what's in the kitchen?"

"I don't need to wash up," he complained, absently rubbing at the stubble that covered his pale cheeks. "It is too early to wash up."

"It's almost nine o'clock."

"Which is too early." Beni disappeared beneath the covers, hiding himself from Cairo's harsh morning sunshine. "Wake me up when it is time to eat."

Lillian welcomed his childish behavior for a change and quickly stuffed the gold box back into her handbag, then set the bag aside so she could take it with her when she left the room. She couldn't keep it hidden from Beni forever, but she would worry about that later. She tugged off her black dress, which felt tight and uncomfortable after sleeping in it all night, and exchanged it for the nightgown she normally wore to bed. A few strokes of her hairbrush put her unruly curls into some sort of order and Lillian prepared to leave the room, casting one last glance at Beni sprawled on her mattress with the covers pulled over his head.

"I want coffee with my breakfast," he murmured sleepily from beneath the blankets. "With a lot of sugar."

"Anything else?" Lillian asked.

"Yes. Bring it to me here on a tray, with all your clothes off."

She pretended not to hear him and left the bedroom, her bag clutched in one hand. The artifact inside her bag was a delightful little secret between herself and Rick, something that Beni couldn't snatch away if she could help it. She gave Beni everything, from a roof over his head to meals every day to the exclusive use of her body for his enjoyment, and he took it all without a word of gratitude. Not that she wanted his gratitude. She didn't know what she wanted and started to brew the coffee, listening carefully in case Rick decided to drop by unexpectedly and knock upon her door. When breakfast was ready she stowed her handbag inside her sewing basket, hiding it with a large piece of fabric, and roused Beni from her bed. He groaned and swatted at her, but the aroma of fresh coffee soon changed his mind and he followed her into the kitchen, rubbing imaginary sleep from his eyes. She knew he was lazy rather than tired, and that he was perfectly wide-awake when he spotted her with the little gold box.

"Are you going to go read to the brats today?" Beni asked as he held out his coffee cup, expecting her to fill it for him.

Lillian passed him the coffee pot instead. "They're not brats."

"All orphan children are brats. Nobody likes them expect for old, dried-up nuns who don't have children of their own because no man would screw them."

"Well _I_ like them," said Lillian. "And no, I'm not reading to them today."

Beni frowned at the coffee pot, his hand wrapped around his empty cup. "What about my coffee?"

Lillian pushed the coffee pot a few inches closer to Beni. He muttered something under his breath in a language she didn't know and poured his own coffee, then spent a good minute stirring spoonful after spoonful of sugar into his cup. She didn't bother to scold him for his greediness and busied herself with spreading jam on her toast.

She didn't expect Beni to understand about the orphans. Nobody understood, including her oh-so-generous parents who threw absurd amounts of money at orphanages and hospitals, but never bothered to meet the poor people they were helping. Lillian despised her mother's charity balls, which were only open to Cairo's white upper class, and volunteered at the orphanage because she wanted to be involved in something real. She didn't want to stay sheltered behind the big comfortable walls of her family's home, taking the occasional step out into the world so she could make some generous donation or host some rich party to raise funds.

She wondered what her parents would say if they knew Rick was back in town. They spent years trying to discourage her from associating with Rick, which only urged her to spend more time with him. They were so relieved when he went away three years ago, never knowing that the members of their elite little world could be just as bad, if not worse, than the scoundrels and waifs that wandered the streets.

"My shirt has a new tear in it," Beni spoke up. He showed her his shirt sleeve, which appeared to have gotten snagged on something.

"Can't you be more careful?" Lillian asked.

"I don't have to be careful. You will just fix everything, like always."

"And what if I decide not to fix it?"

Beni grinned at her over his coffee cup. "You will always fix it. You cannot live with yourself if some poor, helpless man like me has to go around with holes in his clothes."

He was pathetic in every way, but Beni was far from helpless. Lillian mended his clothes for him, just like she sometimes mended the orphans' clothes when the nuns were too busy, but she never had to sew him any new garments because he did an adequate job providing for himself. Beni often stole from people's clotheslines and kept whatever would fit him, then sold the rest of the clothes for a small profit.

"I'm not fixing your shirt today," she told Beni, looking at him with a boldness she hadn't felt in ages. "I'm going to be busy."

"Busy doing what?" he scoffed at her. "Having a wonderful time with your wonderful O'Connell? I think he broke one of my ribs last night."

"Your ribs are fine."

"How would you know? You are no doctor." Beni looked pleadingly at the coffee pot, hoping she would take pity on him and refill his cup, then scowled as he poured it himself once more. "You never told me how you know O'Connell."

"He grew up at St. Elizabeth's," said Lillian. "I met him when I was a girl, visiting the orphanage with my parents. They didn't want me to mingle with the orphans, of course, but I slipped away from them and wandered the halls, and that was when I bumped into Rick." She couldn't help a satisfied smile. "I've known him much longer than you have."

"Congratulations," Beni said with a sneer. "What a beautiful friendship you must have."

"What about you?" she said. "What did you do to piss off Rick?"

"I did not do anything. He's just upset that he is not the only person who has seen Hamunaptra and survived."

That was the best response she would get from Beni. After clearing off the breakfast dishes she pulled a robe on over her nightgown, obeying the daytime rules of modesty, and went outside to have a cigarette and fetch the morning paper. It gave her an excuse to take her handbag with her, since her last pack of cigarettes was in the bag, and she stood in front of her building with a thin, white cigarette held between her lips, keeping her face turned from the sunshine. Her neighborhood never looked as desolate as it did in the morning. The sun highlighted every crack that marred her building, every dirt smudge and blood stain that soiled the street, and people tried to stay indoors as long as they could to hide the hangovers that greeted them when the sun came up.

Something black caught her attention and she looked down the narrow street, where a man stood in the gap between two buildings. He was dressed entirely in black from top to bottom, watching the street with a lined, scowling face that put Lillian on edge. She quickly put out her cigarette, afraid of drawing attention to herself, and stared at a curved silver object that protruded from the stranger's long black sleeve, its shiny surface glinting brightly in the sunshine. She couldn't tell if the object was a weapon or if the man had a hook for a hand, and she didn't want to stay outside and find out. With the morning newspaper stuffed into her bag, she retreated inside her apartment and locked the door behind her, trying not to wonder if the strange man in black could pick locks with his curved blade, or claw, or whatever it was. He was probably a pickpocket, just waiting to slit the throat of some unsuspecting, hungover fool with cash in his pockets.

Putting the man out of her mind, she sank onto the sofa and opened the paper, figuring that Beni had gone down the hall to use the bathroom. She expected to hear his key in the lock any minute and absorbed herself in the news, longing for some time to herself and only herself. She was tired of pouring Beni's coffee, tired of fixing every little hole and tear that appeared in his clothes, and he could unlock the apartment himself for a change. She turned a page of the newspaper, finding nothing interesting in the day's biggest stories.

A small article at the bottom of the second page brought an uncomfortable blush to her face and she forced herself to read it, unable to fight the curiosity that kept her eyes on the headline.

The article proudly proclaimed that Andrew Moore, one of North Africa's greatest philanthropists, had just gotten married. His kind and virtuous bride was the daughter of the head doctor at a clinic he built in Libya, the kind of woman with a perfectly white, unblemished reputation who would bring credit to Andrew's name. The kind of woman who would make the perfect replacement for Lillian.

She tossed the paper aside, feeling foolish for reading the article, and removed her robe in an attempt to feel less stifled in her suddenly stuffy apartment. She should be glad that Andrew's life was flourishing in Libya, that he had found the happiness she couldn't give him, but she still burned with shame at the unfair words he threw at her when he ended their engagement. She still felt sick and angry at times, knowing that he had thrown her away without bothering to learn the truth.

The doorknob jiggled, making her jump in her seat, and for one crazy moment she wondered if it was the stranger in black, trying to force his way inside the apartment. A second later she heard a string of curse words in a whiny, accented voice she knew too well, and soon Beni was unlocking the front door with the spare key she had given him weeks ago.

He looked at her like a wounded animal. "The door was locked."

"I know," said Lillian.

"Why the hell was it locked? I was coming right back."

"There was a man lurking outside," she said, embarrassed. "I didn't feel comfortable leaving the door unlocked."

"You women are all so helpless," Beni said, giving her a wicked smirk. He looked her over, his eyes lingering on her chest, which was barely covered by the flimsy material of her nightgown. "Why don't you go back to bed and we will forget all about the bad, wicked men lurking outside?"

Lillian thought of Andrew, who kept himself carefully wrapped up in his narrow world where bad, wicked men were as real as the monsters hiding under children's beds, and where women were weak, sinful creatures who had been granted too much freedom in these rapidly changing times. Beni was not a good man, but he had never done anything to seriously hurt her, and she led the way back to her bed, back to the usual routine where she gave herself to a man who only loved himself, because she couldn't bear to be loved and tossed aside a second time.


	6. Alone at Last

Alone at Last

Her room felt too warm as she lay on her bed, her nightgown sticking to the perspiration that coated her body. Lillian forgot to open the window before she let Beni have her and now she was paying for her carelessness, struggling to catch her breath in the hot, stifled air. Beni sat beside her looking pleased with himself, no doubt gloating over the fact that he may have had to pour his own coffee that morning, but he could always get her to lift her skirts for him whenever he wanted. Lillian sighed, turning her head away from Beni so she wouldn't have to see the smug look in his eyes, and wanted to despise herself for being used so cheaply. She wanted to despise Beni for using her in the first place, but then she would have been lying to herself, because it wasn't quite so terrible. Sleeping with Beni was the only time she felt a connection to the selfish, greedy little man who took shelter under her roof and ate her meals, and something within her—some shadowy bit of darkness that urged her to seek out the poor, the broken, and the corrupt—actually enjoyed his touch.

She had been living with Beni for about three months, but it felt like much longer. When she first took him home she thought he would be gone in the morning, back to the streets that had sheltered him for God only knew how long, but he kept coming back when he realized that she wouldn't chase him away with insults and well-aimed rocks, the way her neighbors gladly would. He kept coming back, like a starving cat lured to the bowl of milk sitting by the doorstep, and she kept taking him in until days turned into weeks and weeks turned into three long, unbelievable months that felt like years.

Lillian rose from the bed, unable to take the heat any longer, and tried not to get tangled in her sticky nightgown as she walked to the window and pushed it wide open, letting in the smallest amount of relief from the slightly cooler air outside. She could feel Beni's eyes on her and looked out the window, watching the street below. She didn't see the strange man in black, much to her relief, and watched a pair of dark, ragged children chase each other down the narrow road, shouting in Arabic. Maudie, the neighborhood streetwalker, strolled by with a basket on her arm to the nearby market and whistled a jaunty English tune to herself. A beggar sat huddled against a wall, a bottle clenched in his bony fist.

Lillian looked away, feeling powerless in her thin nightgown, and met Beni's greedy stare across the room.

"I bet your friend Maudie knows some good tricks," he said, a lewd grin on his face. "You should ask her to teach you."

"If that's what you want, then go to Maudie yourself," said Lillian.

"She charges too much."

"She barely makes enough to eat every day."

"Well then she is no good at what she does," said Beni. "Anyway, she talks funny."

If anyone in Cairo talked funny, it was certainly Beni. Maudie was born and raised in Whitechapel, a dark, dismal London slum where the gruesome Jack the Ripper murders had stained the streets with blood and fear, and she couldn't help it any more than Beni could help being from Budapest. But it was useless to argue with Beni, who lived in his own selfish little world where his every opinion was the Gospel truth, and Lillian turned to her wardrobe in search of something decent to wear.

"I'm going to take a bath," she told Beni, a dress and a fresh pair of stockings bundled up in her arms. "You could use one too."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Later."

"When's later?"

"When I feel like it."

Which might be the next day, or even the day after that, knowing Beni. She would drag him down to the bathroom and scrub him down herself if she had to. Adding a cotton towel and some soap to the bundle of clothes in her arms, Lillian entered the other room where she had left her handbag sitting near the sofa, undisturbed by Beni. The morning newspaper sat on the coffee table, still open to the headline announcing Andrew's marriage, and Lillian set her clothes on the sofa so she could turn the page. She didn't need to be reminded of Andrew, not when she could still feel the ghostly imprints of Beni's hands on her skin.

She snatched up her clothes when a solid rap sounded at the door, making her dump her things on the sofa all over again. She quickly grabbed her robe, which she had left behind on the sofa, and pulled it tightly around herself before walking the short distance to the door. She wished she could fix her disheveled curls or spray on some perfume.

She felt even worse when she opened the door and found Rick standing before her, looking fresh and clean despite his worn, faded clothes. He stared at her for a moment, taking in the sight of her nightgown and robe, her rumpled hair, and the wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression she supposed she must be wearing.

"Uh, hi," he said. "Bad time?"

"It could have been better," said Lillian.

"Look, uh, I was gonna take you out for coffee or something, but if you're busy..."

"I'd love to go," she said quickly. _"Really_. I just — I need to get ready. You can wait inside if you want."

"Sure."

She got Rick settled on the sofa, keeping her distance so he wouldn't guess what she had been doing before she answered the door, then hurried into her bedroom and shut the door behind her. Beni stood by the window with a cigarette clasped between his fingers.

"Rick's here," said Lillian.

"_Here?_" Beni repeated, his eyes wide. "In your apartment?"

"He's out on the sofa."

"Why the hell would you let O'Connell in?" Beni whined. "Do my broken ribs mean nothing to you?"

"There's nothing wrong with your ribs, Beni. You're fine."

"But I will not be fine if O'Connell is here. Tell him to leave."

"He won't be here long."

"Then neither will I," said Beni.

He stuck his cigarette in his mouth and climbed out the window, scurrying his way out into the street so fast that Lillian didn't try to stop him. She didn't _want_ to stop him. His absence took a weight off her mind and she returned to the other room so she could gather up her clothes once more, relieved that she wouldn't have to explain about Beni. She didn't think Rick would understand why she let Beni have her whenever he wanted, or why she let him live with her in the first place. She barely understood it herself.

"I'll be right back," she told Rick.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I can wait."

But she didn't want him to wait. She didn't want either of them to wait anymore when so much time had flown by already. She gave him one last, nervous smile before stepping out of her apartment and down the hall to the bathroom. Once she was inside she bathed faster than she had ever bathed before, desperately wiping away every last trace of Beni's touch upon her body. When she was dry she put on a comfortable dress that wouldn't make her look like a prude if she wandered into a bar, but wouldn't make the nuns at St. Elizabeth's faint with horror either, and left her damp curls alone. The Egyptian sun would take care of them in no time.

She found Rick exactly where she left him, paging through the paper she had left on the coffee table. She wondered if he had found the article on Andrew, but didn't dare to ask.

Rick looked up from the paper, his face impossible to read as he looked her over. "You look... nice," he said. "Like you did before I left Cairo."

Lillian looked down at her simple dress, aware that she had opted for shorter heels and less dark makeup than the night before. She supposed she must have unnerved him a little last night, all dolled up like a true siren instead of the girl he remembered, and she wished she could tell him that nothing had changed in the last three years, that she was still that girl and not some other woman who embraced the nighttime and clung to it with a need that frightened her sometimes. But she wasn't that girl, and she wasn't quite sure if she was that other woman either. She didn't know who she was anymore, but she knew she wanted to be Rick's friend, and she took up her handbag that still contained her precious souvenir.

"Thanks," she told Rick. "You're looking well yourself. Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know. I was thinking that little bakery down by the rug shop."

"The one Sister Mary swore you'd never visit again after she caught you stealing some muffins," said Lillian, smiling.

"Sister Mary was always an old bat," said Rick. "She's got to be about a hundred years old by now."

"Eighty-one, actually, but you're not far off. She just had a birthday last month."

"I'm surprised the old broad's still alive."

Lillian's smile grew wider, turning into a full, sunny grin, and she felt giddy standing there in her apartment, chatting easily with Rick like old times. Neither of them mentioned Beni, as if last night's strange events had never happened, and when she led Rick to her car she barely noticed the crumbling walls or the old beggar who still clutched his bottle. The neighborhood was almost beautiful that morning, despite the yells and sounds of broken glass that seeped out of a nearby window, and Lillian told Rick about the orphanage as she drove to the little bakery. She told him about the children, who were eager to hear the next chapter of _A Little Princess_, and she told him about the nuns they both knew, who never changed over the years aside from their steadily greying hair. When they took seats across from each other in the bakery she ordered coffee and croissants for them both, unwilling to admit that she already had coffee with Beni earlier, and didn't argue when Rick insisted on paying for his share. She didn't expect anything less when she bought him dinner last night.

"I had croissants like this in France," said Rick, taking one off the plate they both shared. "But they were bigger, and fluffier."

"You went to France?" said Lillian.

He glanced down into his coffee. "Yeah."

"What was it like?"

"The war hit 'em pretty hard, but I guess their croissants are flourishing. Baguettes, too. I ate a lot of baguettes when I was there."

"Those are the long, thin loaves of bread, right?" said Lillian.

"Leave one out in the sun long enough, and you could have yourself a weapon." Rick took up his coffee spoon and aimed it at an imaginary foe. "Crack somebody over the head with it."

"Have you ever done that?"

"Nah. Was tempted a few times, though." Rick took a sip of his coffee, the playful light in his eyes suddenly gone. He fidgeted in his seat. "I met Beni in France."

"Oh," said Lillian. She should have known that Beni would intrude sooner or later, whether he was physically with them or not. Nobody could forget Beni for long. "How did you meet him?"

"French Foreign Legion. They had us train together."

Lillian tried to imagine Beni in a soldier's uniform, a long rifle carried over his shoulder, and wanted to laugh at the very idea. "And that was how you ended up at Hamunaptra?"

"Yeah," said Rick, his face grim. "We were the only two who made it out alive."

She reached across the table and took him by the hand, but he flinched the moment she touched him. "Rick," she said softly, trying not to feel stung. "What happened at Hamunaptra?"

"A blood bath," he said, and he told her the whole gruesome story, leaving out nothing when she prompted him for details. He told her how Beni would have left him to die out there, all alone with a dozen guns aimed at his face, but some strange trick of the desert saved his life.

"And that was when you found this?" said Lillian, pulling out the eight-sided box he had given her.

"No, I found that earlier," he said. "When I was digging a latrine in the sand. Popped out of nowhere when I least expected it, so I just... grabbed it. Thought it might bring me luck."

"Then you ought to have it back."

"I told you, I don't want it," he said flatly. "Keep it safe for me."

Small chance of that happening, as long as Beni lived under her roof. Lillian put the box back in her bag and finished her croissant.

"So," said Rick, fiddling with his napkin. "What are you doing in Egypt, really? I thought you woulda been long gone."

"Do you remember Andrew Moore?"

"Yeah. Bigshot charity guy, wanted to build hospitals or something."

"Well he built his hospital." Lillian forced down a sip of coffee, filling the uncomfortable pause that ensued. "He also asked me to marry him. I said yes."

Rick's eyes immediately sought her hands, searching for a telltale band of gold. "But you're not... I mean, you're living—"

"He married someone else," she said. "I'm surprised you didn't see the announcement in the paper."

"Guess I missed it."

Lillian reached for another croissant, only to find that the plate was empty and so was the coffeepot. The bakery suddenly felt much smaller than it did five minutes ago and she looked at Rick, hoping she still looked like that girl he fondly remembered. "You never told me where you're staying," she said. "You have an address in Cairo, don't you?"

"Kind of."

"Well tell it to me. I want to know where I can find you."

"The thing is... I'm not exactly living alone, Lil."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been, uh, living with someone too," said Rick, unable to look her in the eye. "A woman."

Lillian stared at him, feeling like somebody had just pinched her and spoiled the lovely dream she had been having. "Oh."


	7. The Other Woman

The Other Woman

A woman. Of course Rick was already living with a woman after being back in Cairo for a few short months. There was always a woman in Rick's life, always someone who captured his interest for a little while, until they went their separate ways and another stranger took her place. Lillian wished she had more coffee, another croissant, anything that could give her something to do with her hands, and forced herself to meet Rick's eyes.

"That's wonderful," she said. "What's her name?"

"Darlene," said Rick. "Darlene Hutchins."

"And you've been living with her all this time?"

"Yeah, for a few months," said Rick. "I met her about a week after I escaped Hamunaptra."

The story sounded familiar, one that Lillian had heard a dozen times before, and she realized the startling similarities between Rick and Beni's situations. She felt selfish for thinking it, but she wished she had run into Rick instead, and that this Darlene woman—whoever she was—had picked up Beni. She doubted Darlene would have been foolish enough to keep Beni as long as Lillian had, or weak enough to let him into her bed and willingly give him whatever his selfish heart desired.

"So..." said Lillian, grasping for something, _anything_ to say that wouldn't make her sound like a simpleton. "So you're living in an apartment? Or is it a house?"

"Apartment. I have to pretend I'm her brother or else the landlady will kick us out."

"So you go by Rick Hutchins at home?" said Lillian.

"_Richard_ Hutchins," he said with a grin.

Lillian smiled back. "That name sounds too respectable for the likes of you."

"Respectable's the only way to get by with those old-fashioned types. Old Mrs. Berlinski—that's my landlady—shoulda been a nun or something, I swear."

"She's that bad?"

"Thinks it's a crime that women got the vote in America. She even thinks Egypt should jump on the Prohibition bandwagon and go dry."

"She sounds like my mother," said Lillian.

"How's your family, anyway?" said Rick. "I thought about going by the house a couple of times, but it just... didn't feel right."

She didn't blame him. Her parents, for all their generosity, could be remarkably stuck-up when it came to the people they associated with. Rick had been considered an unwelcome guest since Lillian was fourteen years old, when she and the older, more adventurous Rick had broken into her father's liquor cabinet during a long, boring tea party her mother had thrown. She had lingered under her parents' roof for far too many years, because that was what you did when you were a wealthy, unmarried woman. You stayed at home until your parents either accepted your spinsterhood or managed to snag a suitable match for you, but she finally managed to escape at a price she wished she hadn't paid.

"I don't see my family often," said Lillian, which was truthful enough. They didn't know the half of her situation, and she preferred to keep it that way. "They're doing well, though. Same as ever."

"Your brothers still around?"

"Only Douglas is still in Egypt. He practically lives at the museum these days, saying he's going to become a great Egyptologist someday. If you ask me, I think he's far more interested in the new librarian who arrived a month ago."

"Good for ol' Douglas," said Rick. He glanced out the window of the bakery, where the sun slowly rose towards the middle of the sky. "You wanna get out of here? We've, uh, been here a while."

"I'd like to see where you live," said Lillian. Perhaps Beni's selfishness had rubbed off on her, but she was unable, _unwilling_ to let Rick go. "I want to meet Darlene, if that's all right."

He stared at her. "You want to meet Darlene."

"Well, yes. I think it's only fair."

"All right," he said slowly. "I kinda... told her about you already."

"You did?"

"I told her I grew up at St. Elizabeth's and your name came up. She knows we're friends."

Lillian doubted that Darlene knew the whole story, but she was relieved that she wouldn't be a complete stranger when she arrived.

She lit a cigarette before she followed Rick out of the bakery and towards her car. Rick gave her a funny look when a cloud of smoke blew his way, but he didn't say anything and got into the passenger's seat. She remembered that the last time she saw him, three years ago in 1920, she didn't smoke. Not many women in Egypt smoked in 1920. They weren't as bold in such a foreign city as they would have been in America or Europe, but Lillian finally fell prey to tobacco and hadn't been able to stop since. Holding her cigarette in the hand farthest from Rick, she tried to smoke as discreetly as possible and nearly set the car on fire when a figure dressed in black caught her eye. The same figure she spotted on her street earlier that day.

"Rick, do you see that man?" she asked, pointing.

"I see him," said Rick. "He and some of his buddies kept following me after I left Hamunaptra."

"You've seen him before?"

"Yeah. Have you?"

"He was lurking on my street earlier," said Lillian, staring at the silver hook—for she could see now that it _was_ a hook—that existed where one of the stranger's hands should be. "He was just standing there, like he's doing now."

"Don't worry about it," said Rick. "They're interested in me, not you."

"But why would they be interested in you?"

"Beats me. Maybe they don't like anyone trespassing on their precious desert."

The man in black sent a glare in Lillian's direction, staring at her with dark, hostile eyes, then vanished behind a nearby building. She raised her cigarette to her lips and took a much-needed drag, then started her car and drove away from the bakery, eager to put as much space between herself and the man as possible. Rick gave her an address on the edge of town in a neighborhood she didn't know, so close and yet so far removed from the small world she lived in, but she didn't regret her decision to see his apartment. She and Darlene were bound to come face-to-face anyway and they might as well meet sooner rather than later. Lillian found that was always the best course of action to take with Rick's women.

"So I have to call you Mr. Hutchins when we're in polite company?" she asked Rick as she drove.

"Only if we run into Mrs. Berlinski," he said. "But, uh... there's another reason why Richard Hutchins sounds better than Rick O'Connell right now."

"Why's that?"

"The Legion thinks I'm dead."

"You never told them you're alive?"

"They find out I'm still breathing, I'll get hauled back to France. Get an extra ten years slapped on my sentence for good measure."

"The same would go for Beni, then, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah," said Rick. "But I think we both know that Beni doesn't play by the rules."

"You're not exactly playing by the rules either," she pointed out, throwing him a playful smile. "Shame on you, letting those Legion fellows think you're dead."

Rick didn't return the smile. "I'd get a lot of awkward questions if they found me. Kinda suspicious, being alive when your whole garrison was wiped out."

The conversation faded away after that. Lillian still couldn't bring herself to ask what Rick had done to get into the French Foreign Legion, or why he decided to settle back in Cairo after he left Hamunaptra. She found Rick's neighborhood, a series of cluttered little streets filled with mostly white faces, and though the area was far from upper class, it lacked the squalor and desperation that darkened the streets that Lillian called home. She was glad Rick wasn't sleeping in a run-down hovel somewhere, warding off rats and flies and disease. She was glad someone was looking after him, even if that someone wasn't her.

Once she parked her car she followed Rick into his building, which didn't have an elevator like the richer apartments did, and climbed two flights of stairs until she found herself in a narrow hall with actual carpet, rather than the bare wooden floorboards she was used to at home. The carpet was threadbare and faded, but it was still a carpet, and she stood there in embarrassed silence while Rick pulled out a key and unlocked his door.

She had no choice but to follow him inside and was immediately struck by the flowers and plants that filled the corners, the gauzy curtains on the windows, and the sweet, feminine scent that perfumed the air. The only evidence that Rick lived there was a long rifle propped up against a wall, looking out of place among the obvious feminine decor, and she found it hard to believe that Rick had been living under this roof for months. Her gaze was drawn to a small piano that stood by the largest window, its glossy black surface gleaming under the sunlight that seeped in, and she took a few steps closer to admire the instrument.

"Don't tell me you've taken up piano playing since you've been away," she said.

"That's Darlene's." said Rick.

"Does she actually play it?"

"I'm no judge, but she's pretty good. Lemme go get her."

Rick had barely taken three steps when a woman burst in through the front door, laughing to herself over some joke that was known only to her. She spotted Rick and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"I just came back from Mrs. M's house," she said. She had a husky, smoky voice that put Lillian in mind of a crowded bar at midnight. "That woman is such a scream, Rick. You haven't _lived_ until you've met her."

"Maybe some other time," said Rick. He glanced at Lillian, who was still standing near the piano.

Darlene—for Lillian couldn't imagine her as anyone other than Darlene—followed Rick's glance and stared at Lillian. "Oh," she said, her pale blue eyes going wide. "Who's this?"

"My friend Lillian," said Rick. "The one I told you about."

"We ran into each other yesterday," Lillian said apologetically, taking a small, subtle step away from the piano. "It's been a long time."

Darlene didn't seem offended that a strange woman was standing in her apartment. She hurried over to Lillian and stretched out her hand. "So _you're_ Lillian! How do you do?"

Lillian shook her hand and murmured one of the polite, perfectly bland replies that had been drilled into her head since childhood. Darlene was lovely, exactly the sort of woman who would capture Rick's notice. Her mass of light brown hair had been pulled into a long, thick braid that might have looked old-fashioned on another woman, but gave her a unique charm that many people tried and failed to achieve. Her dress was lightweight and brushed the tops of her knees, but she completely ignored the current fashion of flat chests and Lillian tried not to stare. The reasons for Rick's attraction to her became more obvious by the minute.

"I just thought I'd show her the place," Rick spoke up. "I didn't think you'd mind."

"Of course I don't mind," said Darlene. "But you said she was probably in America, didn't you, Rick? I could have sworn that's what you said."

He shrugged. "I just assumed."

"I _was_ going to go to America," said Lillian. "I thought about becoming an actress, but I... I changed my mind."

"Ooh, an actress!" said Darlene, her smoky voice lending the words a special thrill. "Stage or film?"

"Stage."

"I know a woman who used to be a stage actress. Mrs. Franny Maywood, only I call her Mrs. M. And _she_ calls herself Mrs. Maywood, though she's never actually been married." Darlene winked at Lillian. "She has a sister who's _divorced_. Isn't that exciting?"

"Yes," said Lillian, overwhelmed by this woman's unexpected friendliness. "Very."

"But, Rick, I haven't even told you my story about Mrs. M yet," said Darlene, turning her pale, brilliant eyes upon Rick. Her full lips curved in a wicked smile. "You'll positively die when you hear this, you and Lillian both."

"Look, Darlene, I don't think she wants to hear about that," said Rick.

"Well what were you planning to do with her?" said Darlene. "Show her your gun collection? Why don't you two make yourselves comfortable while I freshen up for just a moment? I'm afraid I smell like an opium den."

Lillian shot a shocked glance at Rick, who looked just as surprised at the casual words that fell from Darlene's lips. Darlene flounced out of the room, her long braid flying behind her, and Lillian drew closer to Rick.

"Well," she said. "She's very... she's very nice."

"You get used to her," said Rick.

Lillian supposed she would soon discover if that was true or not, for Darlene soon returned and sat herself and Rick upon the sofa, leaving Lillian to occupy the only armchair. "Did you tell Lillian what I do for a living?" she asked, giving Rick a gentle nudge with her elbow.

"No," said Rick.

"What do you do?" said Lillian.

"It's that former actress I told you about, Mrs. Maywood," Darlene replied eagerly. "She lives all alone and likes having bright, young people about the house, so she hired me to come over for a few hours a day. It isn't much. I play the piano for her, walk her dog, tell her what a brilliant actress she is; that sort of thing."

"She actually pays you just to do _that?"_

"Not a whole lot, but money is money."

"They say she's one of those Bohemian types," Rick added. "Completely nuts."

"She isn't nuts," said Darlene. "She's _eccentric_. Isn't that a delicious word? She's forty-six, you know, but she looks ten years younger and likes going to bed with men half her age."

"_Darlene_," said Rick.

"It's all right," said Lillian. She was enjoying the whole thing in spite of herself. "She sounds like an interesting person to work for."

"Oh, you can't even imagine!" cried Darlene. "Mrs. M knows the most outrageous people. I walked into her house this morning and found a colored man—a _real_, actual colored man, right there in her house—lying on her very best couch with a long pipe in his hand. The rascal was smoking opium. So then I went upstairs and found Mrs. M trying on one of her old costumes, as carefree as you please, and when I asked her about the man she just laughed and said, 'Oh, sweetie, that's my new friend Izzy. He says he has a magic carpet for sale!' I thought the opium fumes had gone to her head."

"That would explain a lot," Rick muttered.

Darlene ignored him. "So then of course I asked her about this magic carpet, and it turned out to be an airplane. One of those little ones that only seats about two people. This Izzy fellow sells them for a living and Mrs. M actually _bought_ one, that very morning. It was a bargain, she said. All she had to do was give Izzy some opium—she never smokes it herself, so I haven't the faintest idea where she got it—and the airplane is hers. Isn't that just the craziest thing you've ever heard of?"

"What is she going to do with an airplane?" asked Lillian.

"I have no idea, but the story gets even _better_. The housekeeper came upstairs and told Mrs. M she had a visitor at the back door. 'The usual,' the housekeeper told her. Mrs. M's face turned serious and she headed downstairs, so naturally I followed behind and kept out of sight while she answered the door. Her visitor was an Arab, one of those desert tribesmen. He was dressed all in black from head to foot."

"Was he an older man?" Lillian demanded, sitting bolt upright in her seat. "With a hook for a hand?"

Darlene looked at her and laughed. "No, not at all. This man was handsome. Not as handsome as Rick, of course, but still a nice thing to look at if you don't mind tattoos. And he had some shocking tattoos, all over his face. He and Mrs. M spoke for a while, speaking in hushed voices so I couldn't hear very well, but then Mrs. M suddenly stood taller and raised her voice, talking down to him like a true actress. I got thrills when she told him she would continue to keep quiet about something, as long as he kept paying her, and then the Arab man reached into his robes and pulled out a little sack that sounded like it was full of coins. I couldn't believe it."

"She's blackmailing this guy?" said Rick.

"I sure hope so!" said Darlene. "I love a good scandal, and this has _scandal_ written all over it."

"What kind of blackmail could she possibly have on a desert man?" asked Lillian. "Don't they tend to keep to themselves?"

"There's no such thing as keeping to yourself when Franny Maywood is in town," said Darlene, winking at Lillian again. "Rick, you really ought to meet her. She's been dying to see you!"

"She wants to see me, she can come find me," said Rick.

"I wouldn't mind meeting her," said Lillian. She couldn't stop thinking about the hook-handed man. There had to be a reason why she kept seeing him, aside from the vague, unsatisfying reason Rick had given her, and if the eccentric Mrs. Maywood could give her an answer—any answer at all—then Lillian would gladly take it. "Do you think you could give me her address?"


	8. At the Sign of the Red Poppy

_Note:_ Just for clarification, the Ophelia mentioned in this chapter is from Shakespeare's _Hamlet_. Algernon Moncrieff is from _The Importance of Being Earnest_, by Oscar Wilde.

* * *

At the Sign of the Red Poppy

Mrs. Maywood's home was not the lavish mansion Lillian had expected. She lived in a modest two-story house that could have easily belonged to an ordinary family living abroad in an exotic city, though Lillian supposed that ordinary families didn't usually have stone obelisks erected in front of their homes. The tall, thin column, meant to mimic the great obelisks from ancient times, reached for the sky with its pointed tip, and when Lillian looked closely she saw the words _Mrs. Francine Maywood_ carved into the stone. A red poppy flower had been painted below the name.

Rick halted as they approached the obelisk. "What's the pointy statue for?"

"I have no idea," said Darlene, who was leading the way. "One of her lovers gave it to her, I think. I can't remember which one. She's had _so_ many." She drew closer to Rick and Lillian, her eyes wide and eager. "She even had a lover who was Jewish, before I started working for her. Can you imagine? I've always wanted to meet a Jew!"

"Guess I know what to get you for Christmas," said Rick.

Lillian looked up towards the top of the obelisk, feeling small and insignificant beneath the stone column that towered before her. She wanted to do or say something exciting, something shocking that would make her worthy of paying a call upon the likes of Mrs. Maywood. "I know a man who's Jewish," she said, with a sly look at Darlene.

Darlene gasped. "You do?"

"He's also Protestant and Catholic. Muslim, too. And a few others that I can't recall."

"You're lying!"

"No, it's the truth," said Lillian, enjoying the way Darlene hung on to her every word. "I've heard him pray."

Rick looked at Lillian, suspicion in his gaze, and she knew he could guess who she was talking about. Only one person in Cairo was cowardly enough to seek protection from half a dozen different faiths.

"Who is this man?" Darlene demanded, her voice low and breathless. "I'd love to meet him."

"No, you wouldn't," said Lillian, and her moment of grandeur was shattered. She was no longer the spectacle upon the stage, holding the audience spellbound, but an ordinary woman with a heap of problems upon her shoulders. "He's not a very nice man."

"Bad man are the most interesting kind. Everyone knows that."

"This one is different," Lillian said quietly. She found that she couldn't look at Rick and studied the poppy painted on the obelisk, tracing the bright red petals with her eyes.

She never intended to take Rick and Darlene along, but Darlene insisted that going to Mrs. Maywood's alone for the first time was like venturing into no man's land. Darlene was delighted with the idea of all three of them paying a visit and was even more delighted that they would all be driving in Lillian's car. "You're positively lucky to have your very own car," Darlene had said as she bounced into the backseat. "Rick and I have to take a cab all the time. It's such a bore."

Now that they had arrived at the house, Lillian was glad she hadn't gone alone. She felt less conspicuous in Rick and Darlene's company, less like Beni Gabor's plaything and more like the normal young woman she pretended to be in the daylight. She turned away from the obelisk, eager to get inside and escape the sun that beat directly overhead. "We'd better go," she said. "We'll melt out here."

"Follow me," said Darlene.

She took Rick by the arm, holding onto him in a way that Lillian could never do with Beni, even if she wanted to, and headed up the smooth pathway that led to Mrs. Maywood's front door. She had kept close to Rick since meeting Lillian and despite all her friendliness, Darlene was still aware that Lillian was a woman, and Lillian had seen jealousy enough times to know that no matter what she did, her friendship with Rick would always look a little suspicious. Never mind the fact that she had kissed him once, too many years ago for it to matter anymore. That was in the past, buried deep down in a dark corner where it belonged, and if Lillian was lonely then it was her own fault. She followed behind, trying not to think about Darlene strolling on Rick's arm with such perfect ease. Maybe if she tried to be a _little_ more affectionate with Beni—

But no, she wasn't here to think about Beni. She didn't know why she was here, exactly—the hook-handed man wasn't _that_ important—but she couldn't resist meeting a former actress who had actually lived Lillian's abandoned dream.

"I'll do the talking," Darlene said as they approached the door. "The housekeeper is deaf in one ear. I mean _completely_ deaf. You could shout the worst sort of obscenities into her left ear and she'd never know."

"You ever try it?" asked Rick.

"Oh, how I want to sometimes! But I couldn't bear it if she really _did_ hear me."

Darlene didn't bother to ring the doorbell and let herself into the house, which had been left unlocked. Rick frowned at the open door. "Do you really think you should be doing that?"

"Nobody will mind," said Darlene, her long braid swinging behind her as she practically skipped into the house. "I do this every day."

Rick looked at Lillian, the corners of his mouth pulling into a wry smile. "Can't argue with that, huh?"

The first thing Lillian noticed when she walked into the house was the color gold. She entered a large room decorated in gold flocked wallpaper with gold-framed pictures upon the walls and golden lamps on the tables. Even the furniture was a rich golden yellow. "Is the entire house like this?" she asked, feeling warm and stifled within those bright walls.

"Mrs. M decorates all the rooms in different colors," Darlene explained. "She spent _years_ collecting all the furniture and everything. This one's the gold room, obviously, but there's a blue room, a green one, a red one—that one hurts my eyes—and oh, I can't even begin to list them all."

"Darlene, sweetie, is that your voice I hear echoing through these halls?"

A woman descended the staircase, the train of her long gown sweeping behind her as she made her way down. Mrs. Maywood was a tall, slender woman with a bob of shockingly platinum hair, though most of it was hidden beneath a magnificent Egyptian headdress. Her eyes, outlined with thick black rings of kohl, widened when she caught sight of Rick and Lillian.

"Oh, you've brought guests!" she said. "You're such a darling. You know I adore guests."

"I think you'll like these guests," Darlene said with a wink.

Mrs. Maywood glided before Rick, a queenly figure in ivory silk, and took both his hands in her own. "Tell me, sir, who do I have the honor of meeting this fine afternoon?"

Rick stared at her as if she had spoken a foreign language. "Uh, Rick O'Connell," he said bluntly, a harsh masculine contrast to Mrs. Maywood's regal, flowery words.

"Darlene, you naughty thing!" Mrs. Maywood cried, dropping Rick's hands. "Why didn't you tell me you planned to bring Mr. O'Connell? I'm afraid I'm terribly underdressed."

Lillian looked at Mrs. Maywood's magnificent outfit, which wouldn't look out of place at a costume party, and found it impossible to stifle a laugh. Mrs. Maywood whirled around to face her, looking directly at Lillian for the first time with her dramatic eyes.

"And who might this stranger be?" she asked.

"Lillian Murray," said Lillian, looking directly back at her. She found Mrs. Maywood striking rather than beautiful, and though she could tell that she was aging, she aged gracefully. She certainly didn't look forty-six. "I'm a friend of Rick's," she added.

"Lillian here says she wanted to be an actress!" said Darlene. Lillian wanted to kick her.

"Can you act?" Mrs. Maywood asked, her dark, unreadable eyes boring into Lillian's.

"I've never been in a _real_ play, but—"

"I didn't ask if you've been in any plays, sweetie. I asked if you can act."

"Well, yes. I've been practicing since I was a girl."

"How marvelous! You really must recite something for me. I get quite a thrill whenever I meet somebody with talent in this dried-up city."

Lillian glanced at Rick, hoping to find strength in his presence. "You want me to recite something right now?"

"Yes, of course," said Mrs. Maywood. "Something from the Bard would do nicely, I believe."

"I know one of Ophelia's speeches—"

"Oh no, anything but Ophelia," she said with an impatient wave of her hand. "_Everyone_ wants to be Ophelia. I can't imagine why. She's such a hopelessly silly thing."

"Then how about—"

"And not Juliet either. She's even sillier."

Lillian wasn't sure if she liked this strange, commanding woman, no matter how regal she looked. "Well I won't be able to recite anything at all if you keep interrupting me," she said.

To her surprise Mrs. Maywood laughed. "How right you are, dear," she said, as if Lillian's words had been on her mind all along. "We'll get to know each other a little better first and then I'll decide who you ought to play. I do hope that lemonade and chicken salad is satisfactory for all of you."

Without waiting to hear anyone's opinion on the matter, she whisked them away to a parlor upstairs that made Lillian feel like she had been plunged into a sudden snowstorm. Like the gold room downstairs, the parlor had been decorated with a specific color, but Lillian wasn't expecting to see a room entirely in white. Everything was white, from the wall to the carpet to the curtains on the windows, and Mrs. Maywood settled delicately upon a snowy chaise lounge that sat across from two perfectly white chairs. "I always take new acquaintances into the white room," she said as she selected a cigarette from a little silver case. "There's something about the color white that makes you feel like you're making a fresh beginning, don't you think?"

"I'd hate to be the one who cleans this place," said Rick, looking self-consciously down at the pale carpet beneath his feet.

"Oh, don't worry about tracking in dirt," said Mrs. Maywood. "Have a seat, all of you! I've been dying for some amusement since my last visitor dragged himself away."

"That Izzy fellow's gone?" said Darlene, sounding disappointed.

"He'll be back, of course. He's bringing me my airplane first thing in the morning, if he can rouse himself from his stupor long enough to do it." Mrs. Maywood blew out a stream of cigarette smoke and looked brightly at Rick. "I have my very own airplane, you know. I don't think there's anything quite as invigorating as having your own airplane. I learned how to fly in England, just after the war."

"Mrs. M has been _everywhere_," Darlene said in a husky whisper. "And done _everything_."

"I wouldn't say that, exactly," said Mrs. Maywood. "Though I _have_ been quite the traveler and—oh, look who's just arrived! Algy, you little devil, have you come to say hello?"

A Jack Russell terrier came trotting into the room, sniffing the air curiously, and hopped up onto Mrs. Maywood's chaise lounge. Lillian was alarmed until she realized that the dog was wearing a little boot on each of his four paws.

"I call him Algy for short," said Mrs. Maywood, scratching the terrier behind the ears. "His full name is Algernon Moncrieff."

"From the Oscar Wilde play?" said Lillian.

"Aren't you the clever one? When Darlene first met Algy, she had no idea who I had named him after. She's an excellent pianist, but not much good when it comes to literature, I'm afraid."

Darlene smiled, taking no offense. A servant soon arrived, bearing a tray full of lemonade and chicken salad, and Lillian began to relax as she ate and drank. She liked being in the company of self-centered people like Mrs. Maywood. She didn't have to worry about them asking her too many questions, since they were too busy talking about themselves, and she liked knowing that all the uncomfortable details of her life could stay carefully locked away. Perhaps that was why she put up with Beni. He never asked her why she had moved to a poor neighborhood, or why she had turned her back on the world she had grown up in, or even why she wasted her time with a miserable rat like him, and she felt safe keeping the answers to these questions all to herself.

Rick, who had never liked talking about himself either, became less guarded and taciturn as their visit wore on. Mrs. Maywood never questioned his and Lillian's presence in her house, nor did she insist on knowing where they came from or what they were doing in Egypt. Lillian may not have seen Rick in three years, but she knew this was exactly the kind of visit that suited him best.

"Have you seen my wonderful obelisk that's standing outside?" Mrs. Maywood asked Rick, watching him unabashedly as he swigged his lemonade.

Rick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a habit that had appalled Lillian's parents for years. "Yeah," he said. "Where'd you get a thing like that?"

"I had the most exquisite evening with a French artist I met in a bar," Mrs. Maywood began.

Rick raised an eyebrow, while Darlene leaned forward in her seat with big, fascinated eyes. Lillian knew about French artists. She had never met one, but according to Beni they liked to paint women naked.

"He spoke excellent English and speckled his conversation with bits of French that sounded like poetry. He called me _cherie_. For six whole months he came here to paint my portrait and when it was time for him to return to Paris, he gave me that obelisk as a gift. Call the French whatever you like, but that man had the most delightful manners when it came to farewells."

"Mrs. Maywood?" Lillian spoke up.

"Please, dear, call me Franny," she said.

"Franny, then. May I ask you a question?"

"Of course you may. One shouldn't have to ask for permission to ask something."

"You seem to know so many interesting kinds of people," said Lillian, "and I was wondering if you knew anything about the desert tribesmen."

Mrs. Maywood actually smirked and stopped petting Algy so she could sit up a little straighter. "What a fascinating choice. Desert tribesmen are really nothing more than a herd of wandering hypocrites, you know. They behave as if they're _so_ pristine, when they're really just as sinful as the rest of us."

Darlene looked as if she wanted to ask a question, but Lillian quickly opened her mouth first. "Do you ever see any tribesmen in the city? Any that are dressed all in black?"

"It sounds to me like you're asking about the Med-Jai." Mrs. Maywood's smirk grew wider. "They're the most hypocritical of them all."

"Who're the Med-Jai?" asked Rick.

"They claim to be guardians of some long-lost ancient city out there in the desert."

"Hamunaptra," Rick said quietly.

"Yes, that's the name of it. Hamunaptra. The Med-Jai make a great deal of fuss about a curse that will destroy the world if anyone intrudes on Hamunaptra, but it's all nonsense. They're a very imaginative people, you see. This Hamunaptra doesn't even exist."

"Actually, it does," said Lillian. She reached into her bag and pulled out the eight-sided box she carried with her at all times. "This came from Hamunaptra itself."

Mrs. Maywood was no longer smirking as she stared at the little box in Lillian's hand. "Oh dear," she said, her kohl-rimmed eyes dark with worry. "Unless I'm mistaken, that once belonged to my sister."


	9. Secrets in the Sand

Secrets in the Sand

Lillian studied the box in her hands, tracing the hieroglyphics with her finger. She thought it was something special, some miraculous piece of history hidden beneath the sand for centuries, but perhaps it was all an illusion. Perhaps the little box was a cleverly crafted fake intended to fool gullible tourists. "What do you mean, it belonged to your sister?" she asked Mrs. Maywood. "Rick found it buried in the desert."

"Then how come _you've_ got it?" Darlene asked Lillian.

"I gave it to her," Rick answered.

"Oh." Darlene's voice was a little too bright. "It's a beautiful trinket, but not my taste at all. What on earth are you going to do with it, Lillian?"

"Find out where it came from, first of all," said Lillian. She looked at Mrs. Maywood, who had resumed her gracefully casual position on the chaise lounge, and repeated her inquiry. "Please, I'd like to know how your sister got this artifact."

"The sister who got divorced?" Darlene demanded, interrupting once more.

Mrs. Maywood took a delicate puff on her cigarette. "Yes, sweetie. The one who got divorced. Only one of my sisters lives in Egypt, you know."

"Does she live here in Cairo?" asked Lillian.

"Yes, but I suppose I ought to do the sensible thing and start from the beginning," said Mrs. Maywood. "Clarissa is really my half-sister, the daughter of my father's second wife. She's much younger than I am and has been living in Egypt for far longer, ever since her former husband dragged her here ages ago to look at ruins and dig around in the sand."

"He's the one who found that box?" asked Rick.

"Oh no, not at all. Robert—that was Clarissa's husband—couldn't find treasure if it stared him right in the face. That box in Lillian's hands belonged to the Med-Jai. Served them right to have it stolen right from under their noses, the pompous fools. Always raved on about that silly curse, as if the sky were about to rain fire any moment, but I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?"

Darlene let out a little gasp, nearly spilling the glass of lemonade she clutched in her hand. "That little box was _stolen_ from the desert men?"

"Stolen by Clarissa herself," Mrs. Maywood said proudly. "The last time I set eyes on it was two years ago, just before Clarissa cast it into the desert. Oh, she would be positively _enraged_ if she knew it's turned up again."

"But why?" asked Lillian. She felt strange holding the box in her hands, knowing it belonged to the hook-handed man and his tribe. "Why would your sister steal it?"

"The chieftain of the Med-Jai did something that vexed her terribly, so she snatched up that trinket to spite him. I do wish I could tell you more—it's really the most _delectable_ story—but I'm afraid I can't breathe another word. It's not my secret to tell."

Darlene was speechless for once, looking as if she struggled to decide what question to ask next. Rick didn't share her enthusiasm and stared at the box, his brow furrowed in thought. "Lemme get something straight here," he said, addressing Mrs. Maywood. "These desert guys—these Med-Jai or whatever you called them—owned that artifact there. Then your sister comes along, swipes it from their leader, and chucks it into the desert. Is that right?"

"That's exactly right," said Mrs. Maywood.

"So the artifact isn't from Hamunaptra."

"I never said that, dear. For all I know, it _could_ be. All Clarissa told me was that it was very important to the Med-Jai, but so are camels and salt and buckets of water. That trinket could easily be a worthless piece of junk."

Rick met Lillian's eyes and shrugged his shoulders, silently apologizing. Lillian didn't mind if the artifact was worthless; it had come from Rick, and that was what mattered, but she didn't want to believe that it was junk. It was too beautiful to be junk, too strange and alluring, and she wanted to learn all of its secrets. She wanted to know how old it was, where it came from, why the Med-Jai placed such value on—

"Oh!" Lillian exclaimed. She had been turning the box over in her hands, fiddling with it as Rick and Mrs. Maywood spoke, and was surprised when the bottom popped open, revealing a hidden interior. "So _that's_ where it opens up. Did you know it could do this, Rick?"

He shook his head. "No. There anything inside?"

She reached her hand into the box and pulled out a worn piece of paper, the kind that the ancient Egyptians made from papyrus. "It looks like a map."

"Oh, let me see!" said Darlene. She hurried over to Lillian and peered down at the paper. "But you can't read it. It's written with those funny Egyptian symbols."

Mrs. Maywood showed only the slightest interest in the map, preferring to hold her cigarette in one hand while she patted her dog Algy with the other. "Hieroglyphics, sweetie. Anybody can imitate them nowadays."

"Can you read ancient Egyptian?" Lillian asked her eagerly.

"Not one silly word. Clarissa would be the one to ask, though I'm afraid that's quite impossible," said Mrs. Maywood. "She became very secluded after the divorce. She and her little girl live all alone on the other side of town, shut away in their house like a couple of hermits. She takes very few visitors."

"It must be fascinating to be divorced," said Darlene.

"Fascinating and lonely, I'm afraid. Clarissa is a very unhappy woman."

Lillian remained silent and studied the strange markings on the map, wondering why Mrs. Maywood's sister had gotten divorced, and why she was supposedly so unhappy. She wondered if she herself would have ended up divorced if she had married Andrew. Probably not; he cared far too much about reputation to let a thing like divorce—still considered scandalous among Egypt's white upper class—to besmirch his good name. Still, she sometimes wondered what it would have been like to live out her days married to a man she didn't truly love. She supposed it couldn't be much different from sharing her apartment with a man she didn't love, though Andrew once had feelings for her and Beni never would. It was far easier to give herself to a man who didn't care about her, for Beni could never hurt her if he ever walked out of her life.

She stole a glance at Rick, who sat close to Darlene on a snow-white sofa. She could have had Rick years ago, if only she wasn't so frightened of losing the things she cared about. The two of them tried to become something more than friends, when Lillian was only eighteen, but she was young and cowardly and feared losing his friendship more than anything. She didn't want to be like the other women who walked in and out of his life, never to return once the fun was over. Rick never talked about the long-ago day when she boldly kissed him, or the day she refused to kiss him again, and over the years she found it easier to move on, though she still felt something for him that was more than sisterly. Perhaps she would always feel something for him.

Rick looked up from the white carpet and met Mrs. Maywood's kohl-rimmed eyes, unfazed by all the talk about divorce and stolen artifacts. "You mentioned something about a curse earlier," he said.

"Nothing but superstition, without a doubt," said Mrs. Maywood. "Those desert people are more superstitious than a pack of gypsies, and I know _all_ about gypsies. I lived with them for two whole months, when I was in England."

"Was that before or after you learned to fly a plane?" Darlene asked.

"After. It's really the most extraordinary story."

And the conversation shifted to Mrs. Maywood's time with the gypsies, as if the discussion about the Med-Jai and their strange artifact had never happened. Lillian folded up the map and placed it back inside its box, only half-listening as Mrs. Maywood told them about a fortune teller she once knew. Lillian didn't know what had possessed her to show Mrs. Maywood the box in the first place, but now she had more questions and very few answers. She would have to take the box to the museum and see if Douglas could learn anything about it. Her brother was thrilled with any discovery, no matter how miniscule, and she felt safer leaving it in his hands. Even if the artifact _was_ only junk, Beni would still love nothing more than to swipe it from her and sell it for the highest price.

She wondered where Beni was and what he was doing. She wondered if he would come home that night, knowing that Rick might pay a visit. She wondered about a lot of things and was weary of sitting in Mrs. Maywood's perfectly white room, sitting idly while Mrs. Maywood rambled on about a dozen things that Lillian didn't care about. To her relief Mrs. Maywood soon announced that she was expecting someone within the hour, and that Rick and Lillian were more than welcome to visit any time they pleased.

"And next time you _must_ recite something for me, sweetie," she said to Lillian. "I'm absolutely dying to hear you."

"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed," said Lillian. "I haven't recited in front of someone in ages."

"Nonsense. You look as if you'll do marvelously, if you play the right part." Mrs. Maywood peered into Lillian's face, taking in the details with unblinking eyes. "You know, I do believe you would make a fine Cordelia," she said, naming the character from _King Lear_. "I'm _very_ intuitive—a gift from the gypsies, thanks to all those lovely weeks I spent among them—and something in your face reminds me of Clarissa. She would make a fine Cordelia too, if only the poor thing could act."

Lillian couldn't argue. When she accepted Andrew's proposal she thought her acting dream was only a silly whim, and that she could easily give it up once she was married, but now she felt that old desire stirring within her again. She wanted to lose herself in some dramatic role and escape all the worries that pestered her day and night. She wanted to be someone else, even if it was only make-believe.

"I'll gladly be Cordelia next time you see me," she told Mrs. Maywood.

"Of course you will," she said. "And now we really must say goodbye. Juliet may have been a foolish child, but I suppose she was right when she said that parting is such sweet sorrow."

Lillian felt like she was waking from a dream when she left the white room and followed a servant down the stairs, back to the gold room where she laid eyes on Mrs. Maywood for the first time. Darlene was holding onto Rick's arm again, but it no longer mattered; Lillian had too much to think about after everything she had heard that day. She supposed the Med-Jai would like to have their box back, if it was really as important as Mrs. Maywood claimed, and it made Lillian want to keep it all the more. It had been lost in the desert for two years, after all.

"Isn't she just the most interesting person you've ever met?" Darlene gushed as they stepped outside.

"She's interesting, all right," Rick said dryly.

"How did you end up meeting someone like her?" Lillian asked.

"In the most dull way you can imagine," Darlene replied. "I was hoping to find work playing the piano in some restaurant. That was what I did before I left the States, though it was the tiniest little restaurant in the whole world. There was barely room for the piano and we kept losing business, on account of Prohibition making it impossible to serve drinks, and—"

"Let's get back to Egypt," said Rick, giving her a gentle squeeze on the arm.

She lightly swatted him with her hand. "I _was_ getting back to Egypt. I tried two or three places here in Cairo without any luck, so then I walked into this really swanky restaurant, the kind that only rich people like to go to. It was owned by a fellow who came all the way from _Paris_. I knew I didn't stand a chance in that place, but I asked for a job anyway. I didn't get it, of course, but Mrs. M overheard me and said she'd like to hear me play. So I went to her house and played for her, and she immediately gave me a job."

"Told you the woman was nuts," Rick said to Lillian. Darlene gave him another swat.

They reached the end of the pathway that led from the house and Lillian found herself staring at the obelisk that stood on the property, amazed that a French artist would lavish money on such a gift for a woman he only knew for a couple of months. How powerful it must feel to turn a man's head like that.

"What's the poppy for?" Lillian asked, pointing to the red flower painted on the obelisk.

"Oh, that thing?" said Darlene. "Mrs. M says it's her emblem. That if anybody wants to find her, all they have to do is look for the poppy."

"What if she doesn't want to be found?" asked Rick.

"Believe me, Mrs. M _always_ wants to be found."

"Have you known her for a long time?" asked Lillian.

"Not at all! Can you believe I've only been in Egypt for six months?"

"You're lucky," said Lillian. "I've been here my whole life."

"Your _whole life_?" Darlene looked at her as if Lillian had just announced that she was a long-lost princess.

"I was born in Alexandria. My family moved to Cairo when I was eleven."

"_You're _the lucky one. I've spent my life in the dullest, sleepiest town you ever laid eyes on," said Darlene. "I came here because my boyfriend—not Rick, but a different fellow—wanted to make his fortune finding treasure. After a couple of months he got tired of sand and said he wanted to go back home. I wanted to stay here, where all the excitement's at, so we went our separate ways and that was the end of it. Then I ran into Rick."

"Almost knocked me over, too," Rick said with a grin.

They finally managed to tear themselves away from Mrs. Maywood's house and piled back into Lillian's car. Lillian wished she could give Rick a proper goodbye and insist that he come see her soon, but Darlene's presence made her feel tongue-tied and she dropped the two of them off at Darlene's apartment without going inside. There would be other opportunities to be alone with Rick, other chances to speak her mind to him about everything that had happened that day. She drove back to her neighborhood, back to the poor, dismal streets where she had always felt like an outsider among so many people who had hit the bottom. She always had enough to eat every day, always had clean clothes that weren't worn and ragged, and wished she could rescue all of her neighbors who struggled in poverty day after day.

She entered her building and walked up the rickety stairs to her floor, where she found Mrs. Seymour sticking a key into the door at the very end of the hall. Half the neighborhood knew that Mrs. Seymour had been having an affair for years while her husband worked all day and drank himself to oblivion all night. She had two small children, though rumor said she had no idea if they were her husband's or her lover's. Lillian supposed her own morals could be worse. If _she_ had any children, at least she would know for sure who the father was.

"Oh, God," Lillian murmured. If she had any children...

She was taking such a risk, sleeping with Beni night after night, and she had been incredibly lucky these last three months. She and Beni took all the precautions they could, but accidents still happened. She couldn't be lucky forever.

Her apartment was empty when she walked in the door and she distracted herself with a book for an hour, forcing herself to think of other things besides the hook-handed desert man, the strange artifact in her purse, and the unsettling possibility that maybe, just _maybe_ Beni had gotten her into trouble and she didn't even know it. She managed to stop fretting over it until afternoon started to fade away, and the sound of Beni opening the door reminded her of her worries all over again. The moment Beni saw her sitting on the sofa his lips curled into a sneer.

"Back so soon from a wonderful day with O'Connell?"

"Why do you ask?" said Lillian. "Jealous?"

"Oh, sure. I am _so_ jealous of O'Connell."

"Is that why you're home so early?"

He dropped down into a chair and looked at her with the mournful, sad-eyed expression he had perfected so well. "No. I am home early because I'm hungry. What is for dinner?"

She had completely forgotten about dinner. "I don't know. I'll make it in a little while."

"I can wait." Beni leered at her. "I would rather enjoy myself before I eat."

She couldn't bear to look at him. "Beni? What would you do if I... if we ever ended up with a baby?"

He snickered at her. "I would not be stupid enough to knock you up."

"But what if you did?"

"I would not marry you, if that's what you're asking. It doesn't matter anyway. You would just send it to your precious orphanage."

She didn't want children with Beni. She didn't know if she wanted children at all, but she had seen the lonely boys and girls at St. Elizabeth's who had nobody but the nuns in their stern black habits. "I wouldn't do that."

"Of course you would," he said pitifully. "You would put my poor little children into an orphanage."

"And you wouldn't do anything to stop me."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know you," said Lillian. "You would sell them if you could."

A thoughtful grin crossed his face. "Rich people pay a lot of money for babies."

"We're not having a baby, Beni. At least I hope not. I really don't know."

"Then there is still a chance that you can make me rich."

He was despicable, but she had to make the best of it. Rick was happy with Darlene. He would always be happy with some other woman, while Lillian would always wonder if she made a mistake all those years ago, and she might as well get used to having Beni in her life. She had put up with him for three months already. She could put up with him another three months, maybe even longer, as long as he kept coming to her door and chasing her loneliness away.

She had been so lonely, after since she left home and came to this dark little neighborhood. She had been so lonely, and every time Beni came back to her apartment she couldn't turn him away.

"Why don't I read to you for a little bit?" she asked, unable to chase away the one thing in her life that had remained constant. "And then we'll have dinner. And maybe... maybe more than that. I know you're curious to see what happens to Julius Caesar."

Beni smirked at her from his chair. "Caesar will get what he deserves. That's what will happen."

"Well I'm going to read to you anyway. Stay right where you are."

She fetched her volume of Shakespeare and turned to the third act of _Julius Caesar, _vaguely wondering if Mrs. Maywood had ever taken part in a production, and felt relaxed as she started to read. She would save all her worries until tomorrow and make the most of this moment, because she didn't know what tomorrow might bring.


	10. The Refusal

The Refusal

Night came in full force, drenching the streets in darkness, and Lillian could hear the usual noise from her neighbors through the thin walls. Noises that sounded so commonplace during the day were twice as loud when the sun went down, and twice as sordid. When she strained her ears and listened, she could hear muffled shouts from some arguing couple, or perhaps a parent and an unruly child. She didn't mind the shouts so much; they were better than the tell-tale _thump thump thump_ of a headboard banging against the wall, accompanied by the occasional feminine moan, and Lillian had to remind herself that she had chosen this life. She had learned to embrace this nighttime world, where nothing truly mattered, and she didn't want to worry about anything at all as the moon rose higher in the sky.

Though she couldn't help but worry about Beni, who crept into the bedroom on quiet footsteps. She was in the middle of changing her clothes, her nightgown clutched in her hands while her dress lay on the floor, and she didn't have to look at Beni to know that he was watching her. She could feel his greedy gaze upon her body, his eyes drinking in the parts of her that stayed so carefully hidden in the daylight, and she knew that banishing her single worry would be much harder than she thought. The headboard next door was banging against the wall again, reminding her of the battle that lay ahead, and it occurred to her that the neighbors could probably hear her and Beni when they were together. It didn't bother her as much as it should.

"It is about time you took that dress off," said Beni. He flung himself onto the bed, making the springs creak. "Why do you women insist on hiding your breasts with those flat dresses that everyone wears?"

"It's the fashion," Lilllian replied.

"Well it is a stupid fashion. But at least I have got something to look at now."

Lillian defiantly pulled her nightgown on, hiding her nakedness. She could hear Beni's whiny little sigh from across the room.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" he asked.

"You're awfully impatient," said Lillian. "I'll bet you _did_ miss me today."

"Don't be ridiculous. I have got better things to do than miss you all day."

She walked closer to the bed, approaching the empty side where her pillow awaited. "Well what _did_ you do today?"

He eyed her suspiciously, a flask raised halfway to his lips. "Why do you ask? Are you planning to tell O'Connell?"

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, but you might. You and O'Connell seem to be _such_ good friends."

"I don't have any reason to tell Rick anything about you." Lillian didn't think she had ever pitied Beni more. He trusted no one, not even the one person who took him in week after week, regardless of how he treated her. "Don't you trust me at all?"

"The only person you can trust is yourself," he told her solemnly, then took a long drag from his flask.

She knew she shouldn't feel hurt that a person like Beni couldn't trust her, but she did. She had given him so much, far more than he deserved. Lillian got into her side of the bed, leaning her back against her pillow, and hesitantly scooted closer to Beni so that their shoulders nearly touched. She had shamelessly allowed him to put his hands upon her so many times, but something about sitting close to him for the sake of being close felt odd to her, and she was nervous when she leaned against him and slowly, anxiously took him by the hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked, frowning at her in puzzlement.

"Do you really have to ask?"

"Yes." He pulled his hand out of her grasp.

She reached for it again, saddened by the way he shunned any affection. "Beni, don't you ever want to just... sit here like this? Without having to do or say anything at all?"

"What is the point of that?"

"There's no point, really. It's just nice to be close to someone."

"I like being close to you," he said with a smirk. "I like being _very_ close." He pulled his hand out of hers once more and tried to reach under her nightgown, but she gently smacked him away. "What the hell was _that_ for?" he demanded.

"Not tonight," said Lillian.

"What do you mean, not tonight?"

"You can't have me tonight. I'm going to sleep."

He scoffed at her. "What is this? Have you become a prude now that O'Connell is around?"

She was far from a prude. She still wanted to sleep with Beni, to have the only kind of intimacy that was possible with a man like him, but she didn't want his children. She _couldn't_ have his children, not now and not ever, but she was bound to end up with one if she kept giving herself to Beni. Men who would make terrible fathers often _did_ become fathers, whether they wanted to or not.

"Rick isn't the reason," she told Beni. "I'm just not in the mood."

"I don't believe you," he said, an obnoxious little grin on his face. "Women like to pretend that they don't enjoy it, but they do."

"Are you suddenly an expert on what women enjoy?"

"No, but I know for a fact that _you_ enjoy it. You are not the good girl that O'Connell probably thinks you are."

She hated how he was always right about things. No matter how horribly he phrased it, he was always right, and she felt foolish for trying to hold his hand. "That has nothing to do with anything," she said, avoiding his gaze so she couldn't see the smugness in his eyes. "I'm afraid that if we keep doing this, we'll have a child on our hands that neither of us really wants, and I don't want that to happen."

"Oh, come on, Lillian," he groaned. "We talked about this already."

"And you didn't give me a very good response."

"What the hell do you want me to say? It is not my fault if you end up with a baby."

"It won't be mine either."

"Well you could be knocked up already," he pointed out. "So it does not matter if I screw you tonight."

"It _does_ matter." All the pity she had for him flew away in that moment. "If you want to have a good time, go find a brothel or something. I don't care."

"That is fine with me," he said. "My life does not revolve around screwing you all the time."

"You sure act like it does, the way you've been arguing with me about it."

His voice came out as a pathetic whine. "Well you act like it is a crime to have a baby with me. I am not the worst man to have a baby with."

He may not have been the worst man in the world, but he was certainly the worst she knew. Beni could never be a proper father; he was too much of a child himself, always needing to be fed and fussed over at all hours of the day. "Don't pretend that you actually want children," said Lillian. "You're just feeling sorry for yourself, and I'm tired of talking about this."

"You're the one who started it," he said.

"Well I'm ending it now. Goodnight, Beni."

She turned away from him and settled down under the blanket, trying to ignore his presence beside her. Beni made no attempt to touch her again and she lay awake for a little while, listening to the nighttime noises that seeped through the walls, and wondered what she would be doing that moment if Rick hadn't come back into her life. She would probably be tangled up with Beni, not a care in the world as she gave him what he desired, her mind free from the worry that took hold of her and wouldn't let go. She probably wouldn't have worried about getting pregnant at all if Rick hadn't come back, but now... Now she wanted to hold onto whatever shreds of respectability she still had left.

When she woke up in the morning she was surprised to find Beni sprawled beside her. She thought he might have gone to Maudie, who lived just down the street, or crept off to one of the numerous brothels littering the area, but apparently that was too much of a hassle for him. His breathing was shallow, his lips tightly pressed together as he breathed, and she suspected that he was awake.

"Did you stay here all night?" she asked.

"I was tired," Beni replied, his usually whiny voice roughened from sleep.

Lillian sat up, shielding her eyes from the sun that streamed in through the window. "I'm sorry about last night," she said quietly.

"If you are so sorry, then make me some coffee," said Beni.

"I make you coffee anyway."

"But you never bring it to the bed."

"You'll probably spill it," said Lillian. "And you won't clean the sheets afterwards."

"They are not my sheets."

She sighed, knowing the argument was lost as soon as it began. "I'll make you some coffee later. I want to get washed up first."

She had a busy day ahead of her. The orphans at St. Elizabeth's were expecting her that day and she liked to think that they looked forward to her visits, since she came from a world outside the secluded walls of the orphanage. Anyone who didn't dress in a black habit was interesting to them, though she was glad the children would never know just how dark and interesting her life truly was. The nuns would certainly never know, or else they would banish her from their walls no matter how much money she gave them.

After she visited the orphanage she'd like to talk to her brother Douglas at the museum. She had carefully hidden the box that Rick had given her, still afraid that Beni would steal it, and planned to turn it over to Douglas as soon as possible. She wouldn't rest until she knew more about the box, which had weighed on her mind ever since she showed it to Mrs. Maywood, and wanted to know more about the mysterious Med-Jai who had once owned it. She stole a glance at Beni, who was fumbling for a drink of water from the jug on the nightstand, and remembered that he knew an awful lot about Cairo for someone who hadn't been living there long. He was a sneak and a thief, lurking around in every corner and every alley, and Lillian couldn't even begin to imagine how many conversations he had overheard.

"Beni?" she said, gently nudging him in the side. "Can I ask you something?"

He yawned and looked up at her with half-closed eyes. "What?"

"Do you know anything about the Med-Jai?"

"Why the hell would you ask me that?"

"Do you?" Lillian repeated.

"Sure," he said. "They are a pain in the ass."

"Why's that?"

He opened his eyes all the way, looking at her with his usual suspicion. "You are asking a lot of questions. Why should I tell you anything?"

"I heard somebody mention the Med-Jai yesterday and now I'm curious. Who are they exactly?"

"They are just a desert tribe," he said impatiently. "They think they are more important than all the others because they are supposed to guard Hamunaptra or something. Nobody is allowed near the place."

"But _you've_ been to Hamunaptra. And so has Rick. Why is it so important that everyone stays away from it?"

"If you want to know so badly, then ask the Med-Jai yourself. But they won't tell you anything. And I thought you were making me some coffee."

"You can make your own coffee, Beni," Lillian told him as she got out of bed. She was tired of catering to his every need, tired of letting him behave like he was a helpless child, and she turned her back on him as she headed to her closet for something to wear. "I've got better things to do."


	11. When All Is Quiet

When All Is Quiet

Lillian walked out of St. Elizabeth's and into the sun, relieved to be free from the austere walls of the orphanage and the dreary black habits of the nuns. Her parents were always donating food, clothing, and toys to the children, but nothing could change the fact that the boys and girls who lived there had no homes, no families, no quiet space to call their own. Every chance to see the outside world was a treat to them, every visitor a novelty, and when Lillian looked into those young faces she saw the weary and broken-down men and women who littered Cairo's filthy streets. These orphans were the children of prostitutes, of pimps and dope pushers, of poor wretches who drank themselves to death in dark alleys, and their faces saddened her more than usual. They were the children of people like Beni, people who carelessly created lives and then carelessly placed them on the orphanage doorstep, never sparing them another thought as they returned to their vices and their dreary, sordid routines.

She got into her car and pulled a wide-brimmed hat over her head, shielding her eyes from the bright noonday sun, and drove in the direction of the Museum of Antiquities. She had always loved visiting that part of Cairo; the sky felt bluer as it stretched above the museum, the streets were cleaner and the people better dressed, since most of them were tourists come to see the sights, and she found it easier to pretend that she was a respectable woman who lived in a respectable home. She was Miss Murray, friend to the orphans and daughter of philanthropists, who would never dream of sharing a rundown apartment with a miserable lowlife like Beni Gabor. She was pure and pristine, just another rich woman come to marvel at the vast collection of artifacts that had been rescued from the sand. She was an imposter, blending flawlessly into the world she once knew, before the darkness crept in and stole her away to the slums.

She got out of her car and slipped past the tourists who walked the streets, into the quiet halls of the museum where every footstep echoed and every raised voice sounded like gunfire. Few people were in the building that day and she headed for the library, where she was bound to find her brother Douglas, and felt increasingly alone as the few tourists disappeared from view and the quiet halls grew quieter. The little box Rick gave her was in her handbag once more, safe from Beni's clutches, and she felt odd carrying it around in a building full of artifacts. She didn't like keeping it hidden.

Lillian didn't realize someone was behind her until a hand clamped over her mouth, gripping her tight enough to hurt. She gasped, but the sound came out muffled against the stranger's hand, and she tried to break free but an arm snaked around her body, restricting her movement. She was quickly dragged from the empty hall and into a dark room where the only people were dead ones; mummies wrapped in bandages, propped up against the walls or resting upon the stone slabs of their tombs, and Lillian's eyes rested on a massive sarcophagus that stood open, revealing its gaping black interior. She wondered if her kidnapper planned to stuff her into the tomb and bury her alive within that cold stone, and she continued to struggle against the terrible set of arms that held her prisoner.

She was pushed against the wall, the breath knocked painfully from her body, and something cold and sharp rested against her cheek. A hook.

"Scream, and I will cut your pretty face to shreds." The man who spoke had an accented growl of a voice. She immediately recognized him as the hook-handed man in black, the one who had been following her for the last couple of days.

She stared helplessly back at him, unable to speak with his rough hand still clamped over her mouth. He slowly removed his hand, keeping the hook pressed against her cheek, and Lillian took big gulps of air the moment her mouth was free. "What do you want with me?" she demanded.

"The key," he said, glaring at her with dark eyes. "Where is the key?"

"I don't have a key."

He grabbed her shoulder with his only hand, making her gasp again. "The eight-sided key from Hamunaptra," he snapped. "I know you have got it."

The box. The box was a key, though it was unlike any key Lillian had ever seen before. "How-how do you know I have it?" she asked, hating the way her voice trembled.

"I have seen you with it. Now give it to me."

She wanted to scream. She wanted to yell for help, do anything to free herself from the man in black and his dark, soulless eyes, but the hook felt so cold against her skin. One wrong move and her face could be slashed wide open.

"I don't even know who you are," she said softly, too frightened to raise her voice. "Why have you been following me?"

"Hamunaptra must be guarded at all costs," he said. "I have followed your American friend for weeks, waiting to see if he would return to the desert, but he is no longer my concern. The key will return to us at last."

"What's so important about this key?"

"It is the key to the curse my people have feared for three thousand years."

"But there's no such thing as curses."

He dug the dull side of his hook into her cheek. "Enough," he growled. "Give me the key."

She didn't want to give him the key, or do anything he asked of her, but Lillian had no choice. She longed for Rick, who would know exactly what to do in this situation, and tried to calm the rapid beating of her heart. "It-it's in my bag," she stammered. "If you let go of my shoulder, I can get it."

He released his grip on her shoulder, though the hook remained firmly in place. "Hurry," he said impatiently.

"Is somebody in here?"

Lillian didn't think she had ever been so glad to be interrupted. A new voice echoed through the room, one that she recognized, and the man in black disappeared as suddenly as he came, melting into the shadows as if he had never existed in the first place. Lillian touched her sore cheek with trembling fingers, checking for blood, but she was unhurt.

"Lillian! What are _you_ doing here?"

She turned to find her brother Douglas striding towards her, dressed in his usual waistcoat and matching tie. He was as tall as Rick, but unlike Rick he was slender and rather bony, with short hair that was more brown than red. A pair of horn-rimmed glasses sat upon his nose. Lillian remained where she was, half-expecting the hook-handed man to make his sudden return, and took a deep breath.

"I was trying to find the library," she said, forcing a nervous smile. "I guess I got lost."

Douglas halted before her, his brown eyes puzzled behind his glasses. "Since when do you drop in for visits? I normally have to drag you here."

She hesitated, remembering the cold, metallic pressure of that hook against her skin. She had intended to ask Douglas about the box—or the key, or whatever it was—but she suddenly had no desire to drag him into a matter that was more dangerous than she expected. "I, um, thought I would stop by for a moment. Just to make sure you're eating and sleeping rather than spending all your time stuck in ancient Egypt."

She couldn't fool him. "Are you all right, Lillian?" asked Douglas, peering down into her face. "You look a little... rattled."

"There was a man," she said. "Dressed all in black. He... he frightened me."

"Is he still here?"

"No. He... disappeared."

"He disappeared," Douglas echoed dully, looking at her as if she had lost her mind.

"I-I think I'd like to go home," said Lillian. "I'll come and see you again soon, I promise."

"Are you _sure_ you're all right?" Douglas asked. He had always been so serious, even when he was a boy. "Do you want to sit down for a moment, have a glass of water or something?"

"I'm fine, Doug. Really."

She backed away from him, regretting the distance that had grown between them over the years. Douglas was only a year older than her, the first friend she ever had, and they weren't nearly as close as they used to be. They weren't nearly as close as they _should_ be, when they continued to live in the same city, but there were so many things he didn't know. So many things she could never tell him, even if she had the courage. She said farewell to her brother and fled the museum, her handbag thumping against her side with each rapid step, reminding her of the key that was still contained inside. It must be valuable if the desert men wanted it back so badly, though she didn't understand all the secrecy and the sneaking around and the threats. If they wanted their silly key back, then surely they could knock on her door and ask for it politely. Surely they weren't _that_ uncivilized, even if they did live out in the open with nothing but camels and sand for company.

She had to get away, but she couldn't go home. The hook-handed man knew where she lived and she couldn't depend on Beni if trouble arrived. She could find Rick, but she didn't want to bring trouble to Darlene, who had nothing to do with the tangled mess that had fallen on Lillian's shoulders. She could go to her parents' house, back to the lovely house that had sheltered her in her girlhood, but that was the worst option of all. Her family didn't know the true reason she and Andrew had parted ways, the reason that had shamed and embarrassed her so badly that she fled from her home to avoid looking them in the eyes. How was she supposed to explain herself if a black-robed desert man—possibly accompanied by the rest of his tribe—showed up at the door?

Lillian started her car and began to drive aimlessly down the road, desperate to get away from the museum and the man who lurked within those quiet walls. She had been so frightened, so baffled by everything that had happened, and was starting to wish that Rick had never given her the key in the first place. She continued to drive, growing calmer with each passing minute, and it finally dawned on her that she _did_ have a place to go. A place where the Med-Jai hopefully couldn't touch her, where all the answers to her questions might be hiding.

She drove until she found the house she wanted and parked her car, right in front of an obelisk with a red poppy painted upon its surface.

Mrs. Maywood had some explaining to do.


	12. Something Scandalous

_Note: _According to behindthename, Baqir means "to rip open" in Arabic.

* * *

Something Scandalous

"Soothing, isn't it?" Mrs Maywood asked. She wore a kimono that day, made of green and gold silk that made her platinum hair look even brighter, and glided across the deep blue carpet towards a sofa the color of a robin's egg. She sank down onto the sofa, cigarette in hand, and motioned for Lillian to take a seat on the nearby chair. "There's something about the color blue that proves comforting, I've found. And correct me if I'm wrong, but I do believe you're a trifle distressed, sweetie. I know the signs. I _did_ live with gypsies, after all."

Lillian sat down in the offered chair, which faced a wall lined with paintings of the ocean and the sky. She wasn't sure if the blue room was soothing, but it certainly felt cooler compared to the sweltering weather outdoors. "I have something important to ask you," she said. "It's rather personal."

"Ask away," said Mrs. Maywood, lazily flicking ash from her cigarette into a silver ashtray. The kohl around her eyes was even thicker than yesterday. "Personal questions are the most interesting kind."

"I want to know why your sister stole that box from the Med-Jai."

"Well that might be a tad _too_ personal, I'm afraid, my dear. Though I'll gladly tell you all about the lovely airplane I received this morning. It's sitting right behind the house, as grand as you please, and I'm positively dying to take somebody for a ride some afternoon. Darlene is deathly afraid of heights, poor thing."

"I'm sure your airplane is wonderful," said Lillian, "but I _need_ to know the whole story about your sister. I need to learn all I can about the Med-Jai."

"And what makes you think _I'm _the person to ask?" said Mrs. Maywood.

"Maybe you're not the only one around here who's intuitive."

Mrs. Maywood appeared lost in thought for a moment, puffing on her long, white cigarette with eyes that gazed vaguely at some far-off painting on the wall. "You're better off avoiding the Med-Jai altogether, dear," she said. "They completely ruined my sister's life, you know. They could easily ruin yours as well, unless you know how to play the game to your advantage."

"I couldn't avoid them if I tried," said Lillian, still shaken up over the hook-handed man and his terrible threats. "One of them has been following me, for one thing. And today he... he confronted me about the box." She found herself telling Mrs. Maywood the whole story of what happened at the museum, spilling every detail to a near stranger when she couldn't even tell her own brother. It felt good to get it off her chest, as if talking about it could push the hook-handed man further away from her, and something felt _right_ about telling Mrs. Maywood such an unsettling story. The woman didn't flinch at Lillian's words, as if Lillian had recounted a charming story about baby camels instead.

"I see Baqir hasn't changed one bit," Mrs. Maywood remarked. "Excuse my language, but he was always the most disagreeable old bastard. Comes from losing a hand, you know. It makes one incredibly uptight."

"Baqir?" said Lillian.

"That's the name of your hook-handed friend."

"Well what do you think I should do? Maybe it's best if I hand over the box—or key, rather—and be done with it."

"Oh no, you don't want to do that," said Mrs. Maywood. "They deserved to have their little trinket stolen. Let them mope over it for a while longer."

Lillian looked into Mrs. Maywood's eyes and saw no malice there; only a bored sort of disdain that seemed too habitual to be cruel, like the practice of poking fun at a particularly bothersome relative. Still, it didn't make sense to her. "Why do you constantly mock the Med-Jai?" she asked. "Are they really that silly?"

"If only you knew," said Mrs. Maywood.

"I'd like to know, please. I can keep a secret."

"You're not a thing like Darlene," said Mrs. Maywood, studying her thoughtfully. "I could never tell such a delicious story to Darlene, but _you_... You look as if you have a great many secrets sealed behind your lips. If I tell you this secret—and I do believe I will—you must promise you'll never breathe a word to anyone, of course."

"I promise," said Lillian.

"Very well." Mrs. Maywood took one last drag upon her cigarette before laying it to rest in the ashtray. Tendrils of smoke wafted towards the pale blue ceiling, putting Lillian in mind of the cold winters she had heard about but never seen with her own eyes. "As I'm certain you already know, my half-sister Clarissa is divorced. She would probably still be married to this day, living out a dull existence with her dear, dull husband, but a man named Ardeth Bay changed all of that." She paused, letting her words hang in the air.

Lillian took the bait, asking the question that Mrs. Maywood was expecting. "Who's Ardeth Bay?"

"A very important man among the desert tribes. He's the leader of the Med-Jai." Mrs. Maywood smirked. "He's also the father of Clarissa's little girl."

Lillian stared. "Your sister had an affair with one of those desert men?"

"The most unlikely desert man of all, for good measure. Ardeth can't stand American women. Fancies himself too good for us, I suppose, but Clarissa was different. My father had eight children between his two marriages, you know. I'm the oldest and Clarissa is the very youngest—she's thirty years old now—but she always behaved much older than her years. Far too serious and demure to be a proper American woman, really. Always did whatever she was told without complaint and refused to wear skirts that reached above the ankle, like a perfect nun. It's no wonder that Ardeth, the great scorner of all things female and American, found her captivating."

"But how did he meet Clarissa?"

"I'm getting to that, sweetie," Mrs. Maywood said patiently. "Clarissa married a man named Robert Hunter, who was studying to be an anthropologist. The two of them were always riding off to villages so they could gawk at anyone remotely different from themselves, and naturally Robert took a liking to the desert tribesmen. I suppose he saw something of himself in them, since they're both duller than dirt. One day Robert decided to take a hunting trip with some friends and left for three whole months, leaving Clarissa alone here in Cairo. I can only guess what prompted her to do it, but my demure, prudish little sister went wandering off to the Med-Jai camp and began studying its people in _great_ detail. Made a particularly thorough study of the anatomy, as you can imagine. She kept this up for weeks, disappearing in the middle of the day with the desert chieftain, and next thing you know she's carrying Ardeth Bay's child."

"Did Robert know the baby wasn't his?"

"Oh, yes. He knew perfectly well. He and Clarissa were married for six whole years, but they never produced a single child, so it was awfully suspicious when he returned from a three-month trip and found out his wife was expecting a baby. He finally divorced her, just a couple of months before her little girl was born, and made his cowardly retreat back to the States where the scandal wouldn't touch him. Not that anybody _knows_ there's a scandal, of course. As far as the majority of Cairo is concerned, Clarissa's daughter is Robert's, and nobody knows any better because Clarissa keeps the girl indoors all the time. Tells everyone she's too frail and sickly to venture outside, which is all nonsense."

As fascinating as the story was, Lillian still didn't see why the stolen box was so significant, or why Mrs. Maywood appeared so well acquainted with the Med-Jai. "But what about the box?" she asked. "I understand that Clarissa must have been unhappy because of the divorce, but why would she take an artifact from the Med-Jai?"

"To punish Ardeth," Mrs. Maywood replied. "She named her dark-haired, dark-eyed little girl Janey—an American name for a desert man's American bastard—and after the divorce she expected Ardeth to acknowledge Janey and give her his name so they could be a proper family. Which was entirely impossible, with the desert tribesmen being so strict about adultery. Bad enough that Clarissa was married at the time, but Ardeth was married as well. He only had two wives back then, but I believe he's recently acquired a third one, though I really can't keep track anymore. I imagine he has a whole pack of desert children running about as well. Naturally he would be ruined—completely stripped of all his authority and punished for his sins, no doubt—if his people ever learned that he had a child out of wedlock with a married white woman."

"So he refused to marry Clarissa. And Clarissa retaliated by taking the box?"

"That's exactly right. Ardeth was its guardian, I believe, but he must been foolish enough to show it to Clarissa, because she stole it right from under his nose and threw it into the desert where he would never find it again. It appears her plan isn't as flawless as she imagined, thanks to your friend Mr. O'Connell."

Lillian supposed she should have felt satisfied, now that she knew how the box had ended up in her hands, but instead she felt irritated. She was annoyed at Robert Hunter and Ardeth Bay, two men she had never laid eyes on, for their treatment of a woman who had made a grave mistake and had to pay for it every day of her life. "But how could they do that to her?" she asked, thinking out loud. "Robert and Ardeth, I mean. How could they betray her like that?"

"Love is a terribly complicated thing," Mrs. Maywood replied. "That's why _I've_ always had the good sense not to meddle in it."

"Then why do you call yourself _Mrs._ Maywood? Darlene says you've never been married."

"And I never will, if I can help it, but a married woman has more freedom in our society than an unmarried one. You can go wherever you wish and do whatever you please when you've got a ring upon your finger, except when you find yourself in a situation as unfortunate as my sister's."

"I was almost married," Lillian said quietly. She hadn't meant to say it, but the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"And do you regret the fact that you're not?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I wonder what it might have been like, but most of the time I'm... glad. I didn't love him."

She didn't know why, but she had a sudden urge to tell Mrs. Maywood everything. She wanted to unload every dark thought that had weighed her down for months, unburden herself of all the things she never told Rick or her family, and the whole story came pouring out. How she said yes to Andrew Moore, an English philanthropist who had grown fond of her throughout his stay in Cairo, because her whole life had consisted of living up to her parents' expectations. Her only act of rebellion was her friendship with Rick, but where Andrew was concerned she had no backbone, no will to refuse the offer of a perfect marriage that would make her parents proud.

"About a month after the engagement was announced, a friend of the family came to stay in Cairo," said Lillian. "Harold Sheffield. He was from Boston, where my mother was raised."

_Call me Harry, dear girl_, he was always telling her. _We're friends, aren't we?_ he would murmur as his hand wandered to her breast, to her backside, to whatever part of her he could reach when no one was looking.

But Harold Sheffield wasn't her friend. He thought he was so kind and generous, just because he was always giving money to charity and lamenting about how tragic poverty was, but she saw him for the snake he truly was.

"He became rather obsessed with me. He was always following me around, touching me every chance he got, hoping to compromise me, but he never got as far as he would have liked. He became angry, accusing me of being a tease, and finally vented out his frustration by turning Andrew against me."

A slut. That was what Andrew believed she was, thanks to Harold and his poisonous words. She was a tramp, a harlot, a no-good whore who was sneaking into bed with half a dozen lovers behind Andrew's back.

"Harold even claimed that I tried to seduce him. He had one of my... my undergarments. He must have bribed one of the servants to steal it for him and he showed it to Andrew, telling him I left it in his bedroom. It was all over after that. Andrew believed every word."

He wouldn't even listen to her side of the story. He had been raised to believe that the woman was always at fault, that she ruined herself through her own sinful nature, and when he broke off the engagement he politely told her family that he and Lillian had made a mutual agreement. That neither of them was quite ready for marriage at that time, but they were perfectly willing to renew their courtship later. Now he was married to some other woman, happily making a name for himself in Libya while he funded his precious hospitals.

"Well you should thank your lucky stars you didn't marry him," said Mrs. Maywood. "He sounds like a perfect fool."

"I suppose that's what I get for getting engaged for the wrong reasons," said Lillian.

"Don't ever say that, sweetie. We all make mistakes." Mrs. Maywood reached for her cigarette, but she kept her eyes on Lillian. "You really ought to see my old wardrobe, you know, from my theater days. I have the perfect thing to cheer you up."

"I would like that," said Lillian.

The housekeeper entered the room, her checkered dress looking out of place in the blue room. She halted a distance from Mrs. Maywood, unable to hide the annoyance in her face. "You have a visitor, ma'am," she said with a long-suffering air. "He's waiting in the back yard."


	13. A Little Business

**Author's Note:** I feel like this story is cluttered with enough notes already, but here's another little clarifying tidbit. I can't take credit for the Mary Jane Kelly mentioned in this chapter, since she was a real prostitute who lived in Whitechapel until her death in 1888. She is believed to be the fifth victim of the notorious killer known as Jack the Ripper.

* * *

A Little Business

"I might as well show you my airplane," Mrs. Maywood said as she headed to the back yard, where her visitor waited. "The man who gave it to me calls it a magic carpet. Isn't that quaint? I rather like the idea of soaring through the air on a magic carpet."

Lillian didn't know what to say. She had told this woman the secrets that had sat upon her shoulders for months, the secrets that she had never dared to tell the people closest to her, and now she was following Mrs. Maywood out to the yard where a nameless, faceless visitor waited to discuss a "very small business matter," as Mrs. Maywood had vaguely put it. Lillian was surprised that a former actress living in carefree retirement would be involved in business matters at all.

"I'm afraid I can't go outdoors without my sunshade," said Mrs. Maywood, grabbing one from the umbrella stand by the back door. "My skin burns terribly. I have a spare you can borrow, if you'd like."

"I'll be fine," said Lillian.

Getting burned by the sun was the least of her worries. She still had the key, which was important to the Med-Jai for reasons she still didn't know, and it was only a matter of time until Baqir—the hook-handed man—confronted her again. She followed Mrs. Maywood outdoors, wondering if Baqir was hiding in some nearby corner, watching her that very moment, and bit back a groan when she saw the man who stood some distance from a small, two-passenger airplane, looking up at it with fearful eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Lillian asked.

Beni jumped at the sound of her voice. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?" he shot back.

Mrs. Maywood stood between them in her silk kimono, her sunshade in one hand and a cigarette in the other. "You two know each other," she observed. "How perfectly marvelous."

"Yes." Beni smirked. "Lillian and I know each other very well. Isn't that right, my dear?"

He was purposely trying to embarrass her. She knew all of his little games so well that nothing he said could surprise her anymore.

"That's right," said Lillian, smiling. She wasn't going to let him embarrass her this time, not after everything she had been through that day. "Very, very well."

"As fascinating as this is, let's go back inside, shall we?" said Mrs. Maywood. "I would absolutely hate to keep Mr. Gabor waiting."

Beni shuffled his feet, glancing shiftily at the house. "I would prefer to meet with you privately."

"If you and Lillian know each other as well as you claim, then I don't see the harm in letting her tag along," said Mrs. Maywood. "You wouldn't want to have any secrets, now would you?"

Beni kicked at a rock on the ground and grumbled to himself as he followed Mrs. Maywood into the house. Lillian brought up the rear and kept her eye on Beni, watching the way he crept through the house with a thief's quiet instinct, his greedy gaze settling on every valuable object he passed. It occurred to her that she had never seen Beni in a respectable setting like Mrs. Maywood's house before; she had only seen him in seedy little bars, noisy marketplaces, and the dreary apartment they both called home. She imagined what it would be like to take Beni to her family's house, where the furnishings were richer and the heirlooms probably older, and could see the identical looks of horror upon her parents' faces when they found Beni sneaking through the halls, salivating over the gold and silver. The idea amused her for one absurd moment, until she realized that the last thing she wanted—aside from having his children—was introducing Beni to the life she once lived. She would never be able to get rid of him.

"Algy, you precious little devil! Where on earth have you been hiding?" Mrs. Maywood exclaimed as her terrier trotted into view. "Did you come out specifically to greet our visitor? I know how you love saying hello to Mr. Gabor."

Beni halted in his tracks as the little dog approached him, standing stiff as a statue while Algy sniffed curiously at his trouser leg. Lillian didn't know if she should find the scene comical or sad; the fact that Beni was afraid of dogs didn't surprise her, when he was easily spooked by so many things, but the sight of him turning panic-stricken at such a small dog was laughable. Algy finally trotted off, his tail wagging in the air, and Beni's shoulders slumped with relief.

"The dear little thing didn't nip at your ankles this time," said Mrs. Maywood. "He must be in a mood today."

Beni glared at her and said nothing.

Mrs. Maywood took them into a room that Lillian hadn't seen yet; a room furnished in green, smaller than the white and blue rooms with three plain, rather stiff green chairs for the only places to sit. Lillian smelled something in the air, something that reminded her of herbs and spices, or perhaps a garden, and stared curiously at a massive cabinet—painted dark green—that took up most of one wall.

"What will it be this time, Mr. Gabor?" asked Mrs. Maywood, gazing at him calmly through a wisp of cigarette smoke.

He cast a sidelong glance at Lillian, his arms crossed uncomfortably over his chest. "The same as last time."

"You'll have to remind me of what that was. I'm afraid I can't remember what you bought a whole entire week ago."

"Come on, don't you keep records or something?"

"They're all the way upstairs, Mr. Gabor. It would be so much easier for us both if you simply told me."

"Opium," Beni said sullenly, like a child forced to tell the truth about his wrongdoings. "I want more opium."

Lillian could hardly believe it. In all the three months she had known him, she had never seen Beni smoke opium or bring any home to the apartment. He was too nervous, too distrustful of the world around him to fall into that kind of oblivion, and she didn't like the way he acted so secretive. Like he was hiding something from her.

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere, sweetie," said Mrs. Maywood. "And do you really, truly have the exact amount of money with you?"

Beni's response was reluctant. "Yes."

"I'd like to have that first, if you please."

Lillian watched in baffled silence as Beni pulled some money out of his pocket and thrust it into Mrs. Maywood's waiting palm, displeasure written all over his face as the payment left his hand. Mrs. Maywood thanked him, her voice overly sweet, and spent a few moments rummaging in the large cabinet that sat against the wall. She finally produced a package containing bricks of opium and handed it to Beni, completely unfazed when he snatched it from her hands without a word of gratitude. He glanced at Lillian again, something wary in his eyes, and hurried from the room with his package clutched to his chest.

"Aren't you afraid he'll rob the place?" Lillian asked Mrs. Maywood, watching Beni disappear into the hall.

"My housekeeper will escort him from the house," she replied. "She may be deaf in one ear, but she's a very perceptive woman."

"What was that all about? I see Beni... _often_, and he doesn't... well, he doesn't smoke opium."

"I'm not going to ask how you're acquainted with that pitiful creature," said Mrs. Maywood. "And I really don't know if Mr. Gabor smokes opium or not. I suppose he distributes it somewhere after he buys it from me, but I never bothered to find out."

Though Lillian was becoming accustomed to Mrs. Maywood's oddities, she was surprised at the nonchalant way she spoke of the deal that just took place. She remembered that Mrs. Maywood received her airplane because of opium, but she never imagined that someone like Beni would come to her door."I'm afraid I still don't understand. You just sell opium to anybody who wants it? Anyone at all?"

"Not opium exclusively, dear. I suppose you could call me a medicine woman of sorts. I learned natural healing from the gypsies and when I found myself short of money I began selling various plants and medicines, along with opium—which makes a fine pain reliever, you know—in certain circles. I have to give a share of the profits to the local crooks, of course, or else I'd wake up in the middle of the night and find my house in flames, but it's a small price to pay." Mrs. Maywood smiled over the dwindling stub of her cigarette. "People like coming to me. I'm a good deal kinder than most of my competitors."

"I'm surprised you sell to Beni at all. He's not exactly trustworthy."

"That's one way to describe it," said Mrs. Maywood. "But all men can be managed if you figure out how. Even men like Beni."

The longer Lillian stayed in the house, trying not to be affected by Beni's presence, the more she felt like she had overstayed her welcome. She said her polite goodbyes to Mrs. Maywood, promising to look at her old costumes the next time she paid a vist, and got back into her car feeling like all the world's secrets had been stripped away over the course of a single afternoon. She wanted nothing more than to go straight home, where she could relax with a book and worry about fictional people with fictional problems that could vanish with the turn of a page, and drove out of Mrs. Maywood's neighborhood and into the familiar corner of Cairo that she couldn't seem to escape. There was the old beggar with the bottle in his hand, the same one she saw yesterday morning when she looked out her bedroom window, and there was Mrs. Seymour returning from the market with her two children clutching her skirt. There was the German man who once chased Beni down three whole blocks after Beni stole his breakfast right from under his nose, and there was Maudie, dear Maudie with her East London accent and tea that was to die for, heading into the apartment where she lived by day and worked by night.

Lillian arrived at her own building and no longer desired to spend her time alone within these walls, or—if he had gone home after making his unusual purchase—with Beni. Maudie was good company, and not just in the way that men viewed her as good company. Unlike Rick, Darlene, and Beni, Maudie had absolutely nothing to do with any of Lillian's recent troubles, and Lillian found herself getting out of her car so she could walk to Maudie's building and climb up two flights of creaky wooden stairs. Maudie herself was walking to her room, her blue dress providing the only splash of color in the dark hall, and Lillian called out to her.

"Well lookie who it is," said Maudie, turning around to face her. "If it ain't Miss Murray callin' upon the likes o' me in broad daylight."

"I saw you out on the street," said Lillian. "I thought I'd come and... say hello."

Maudie's sharp hazel eyes looked over Lillian, finding every bit of weariness in her face. "Somethin' ailing you, luv?"

"Not exactly. I could really use a cup of your tea right now."

"When it's bloody boilin' outside? Somethin' _is_ ailin' ya." Maudie grinned, revealing a missing tooth near the back of her mouth. "But I know you'll keep yer secrets."

It was difficult to tell how old Maudie Tucker was. She could have been anywhere from twenty-five to thirty-five, with brown hair that had been chopped to her earlobes for the sake of comfort rather than fashion. A band of freckles across her nose and cheeks gave her face a youthful, almost spritely appearance, but her eyes were centuries old, and when she unlocked her door Lillian could see the nub on the end of her hand where she had lost her little finger in a factory accident.

Despite her sordid profession that brought men to her bed in the late night hours, Maudie kept a clean apartment and bustled about making tea while Lillian sat and listened to a lone fly that buzzed against the window. Flies were unavoidable in such hot, heavy weather, and she had always wanted to know what it was like to feel cold when the sun was shining. She had never seen snow, could count the number of times she had seen rain fall, and the only ice she encountered was in the form of cubes bobbing about in a beverage glass. She could hardly believe that she had lived in Egypt for so long, living with the heat and the dust and the constant sun, never knowing what it was like outside the desert land where she was born. She could hardly believe that she gave up her dream to sail to America, just so she could marry a man she didn't love.

"Maudie, why did you leave England and come to Egypt?" Lillian asked as Maudie handed her a steaming cup of tea.

"I never told ya?" said Maudie.

Lillian blew on her tea and took a slow sip, feeling calmer already. "I never asked."

"Well there's only two reasons anyone comes out to this bleedin' desert. They're daft enough to think they'll find treasure, or they're sick and tired o' freezin' their arses off in the cold."

"Which reason was yours?"

"Neither, luv." Maudie sat with her hands in her lap, keeping her missing finger hidden. "I started hearin' stories, is all. Rumors about Mary Jane Kelly's ghost walkin' round the streets o' Whitechapel, and it spooked me a little."

"Who's Mary Jane Kelly?"

"_Who's Mary Jane Kelly?_" Maudie repeated in disbelief. "Ain'tchoo ever heard o' Jack the Ripper?"

"Of course I have," said Lillian.

"Well ol' Jacky went and murdered the poor bird, or so they say. I lived down the street from the house where she was killed, and sometimes I'd get chills right down me back when I walked by. They say Jacky cut off Mary's breasts, ya know. Cut 'em clean off. Ripped out her innards, too, like some kinda deranged butcher."

Lillian thought of Baqir with his deadly hook and wondered what damage he could cause if he put his mind to it. She shuddered a little and drank down her tea. "People don't _actually_ believe they've seen her ghost, do they?"

"People'll believe anything. I ain't sayin' _I_ believe in poor Mary's ghost, but I got to hearin' some wild stories 'round the neighborhood. A girl named Nan, who lived down the hall from me, would swear on her mum's immortal soul that she _saw_ Mary Jane Kelly herself, on some dark, cold night. Had a great, gaping hole in her gut, she did, where all the innards used to be, and both breasts missin'. That's what Nan told me, and her words wouldn't stop runnin' through me head in the middle o' the night, when whatever john I'd picked up was fast asleep and it was just me on me lonesome, lyin' awake and thinkin'. I said to meself, 'Maudie, dear girl, you oughtta go someplace warm if you're gonna keep earnin' a living on yer back. If them Ripper murders happened once, they could happen again'."

"You can never really hide from danger, though," Lillian murmured, thinking of how easily her blood could have spilled across the museum floor. "I'm sure Egypt has its share of monsters, too."

"Right you are, luv, but you don't know what it's like, walkin' the same streets where Jacky did his dirty work. Couple o' times I fancied I heard him comin' behind me, a big knife clutched in his filthy hands, just waitin' to cut down a poor tart like me. Ol' Jacky could still be alive out there, after all these years, and I ain't walkin' those streets if he ever decides to get back in business." Maudie grabbed the teapot and refilled Lillian's cup, then poured some tea for herself. "And now I'm gettin' the shivers just thinkin' about it. Gruesome stuff, it is."

Lillian changed the subject, hating the thought of Jack the Ripper hiding somewhere in the streets of London—much older and more weary, perhaps, but still very much alive—and noticed that the fly was no longer buzzing against the window. It flew overheard somewhere, taunting her with its presence, and she longed to give it a good swat.

"Do you know anything about Beni buying opium?" she asked.

"Beni?" Maudie said with a laugh. "If Beni's been buyin' hop, then he sure as hell ain't sharin' it with me. This is the first I've heard of it."

"I just thought you might have seen something. Has he been acting suspicious at all?"

"Actin' suspicious? Suspicious is Beni Gabor's middle name, luv. We _are_ talkin' about the same Beni Gabor here, ain't we?"

"I mean, more suspicious than usual."

Maudie set down her tea and looked at Lillian with her age-old eyes, the nub of her missing finger tucked beneath her skirt. "You waste yer time, ya know, fussin' over a miserable little cur like him."

"I know," Lillian said quietly.

"He won't ever mend his sorry ways. Men like him never do."

"I've given him too much, Maudie. He'll always keep coming back, no matter what I do, and sometimes I'm not sure if I really want him to leave. That's the worst part."

"A habit is a hard thing to break, dearie," Maudie said with a sigh, pouring a bit of brandy into her tea. "A hard, hard thing to break."


	14. Four Is a Crowd

Four Is a Crowd

Before leaving Maudie's apartment, Lillian hid a little money in a place where she knew Maudie would find it, just as she did every time she visited. Maudie never mentioned the money, but Lillian knew that she always took it, because it meant she wouldn't have to work the streets for a few nights in a row. It wasn't much, but it was the best Lillian could do under the circumstances, and after thanking Maudie for the tea she returned to her own apartment. She found a note pinned to the door, written in Rick's familiar handwriting, and Lillian smiled at the brief, choppy message that had been penned in as few words as possible.

Rick provided the name of a respectable bar where he and Darlene planned to have drinks at seven o'clock that evening. Lillian was welcome to show up if she wanted to, according to the note, and Beni was welcome as well. She was surprised that Rick would invite Beni after their encounter two nights before, though she supposed it meant that Rick was ready to move on and forget about the other night. He had never been one to hold grudges.

Lillian entered her blissfully empty apartment and finally took the moment of rest she had longed for all day, glad that Beni wasn't around so she could relax. She couldn't help but worry about him just a little, knowing he carried opium through the dangerous streets of lower class Cairo, but she pushed Beni out of her mind and picked up her copy of _The Age of Innocence_, which she read for a full hour. She was just setting her book down when a key turned in the lock, the tell-tale sound echoing through her empty apartment, and Beni came in wearing the red fez that had covered his hair since the night Rick first arrived. He wore it constantly, only taking it off to bathe and sleep, and all the persuasion in the world couldn't get him to leave it behind when he left the apartment. Beni clung to his few possessions tightly, treating them like they would disappear the moment he turned his back upon them, and she was always careful when she touched anything that belonged to him.

She wondered if Beni saw _her_ as a possession. She wondered if he would cling to her just as tightly.

He glanced at her with shifty eyes as he entered the apartment, but he kept his mouth shut and tried to creep across the room as if he were invisible. Before he could walk away, she asked him, "How do you know Mrs. Maywood?"

He halted and turned around. "How do _you_ know her?"

"I asked you first."

He heaved a whiny sigh and absently scratched at the back of his neck. "People talk about her. I heard her name in a bar or something." He settled his suspicious gaze on Lillian. "But what about you? Nobody goes to Franny Maywood unless they want drugs."

"I'm not buying drugs," Lillian said firmly. "She's become sort of a... friend, I guess. I know someone who introduced me to her."

"Who? Your wonderful friend O'Connell?"

"You ought to be a little nicer towards Rick. He doesn't hate you, you know." She almost handed Beni the note Rick had left, until she remembered he couldn't read. "He invited both of us to have drinks with him tonight. I think you should go."

"Why? So I can collect more bruises?"

"Because I want you to go. Rick has a woman he's living with and he's bringing her along, so..." Lillian trailed off, unsure of why she needed Beni to accompany her. She had been alone with Rick and Darlene before, but she supposed that sitting around an apartment and going out for drinks were two completely different things, and she didn't like the idea of going alone. She didn't want Darlene to think that she was trying to snatch Rick away.

Beni started to smirk as he dropped down into a chair, carelessly letting the springs creak under his weight. "Oh, I think I understand now."

"Understand what?"

"You want to make O'Connell jealous."

"With you?" said Lillian. "If I wanted to do that, I'd bring somebody else."

"But you have nobody else to bring. I am all you've got."

"I don't want to make anyone jealous," said Lillian, ignoring Beni's obnoxious little snicker. "I just think it's odd if I go by myself."

She also wanted to keep an eye on Beni. There were so many things about him she didn't know, so many things he hadn't told her because Beni was almost as bad as Rick when it came to talking about himself. She still didn't fully understand his trips to Hamunaptra, though it sounded like he was scamming tourists into thinking he could take them to the lost city, and she wanted to know more about his mysterious business with opium. She watched him pull out a cigarette and light it with a match, thinking of all the countless cigarettes she had bought for him over the weeks, and chose her next words carefully.

"I never expected to see you at Mrs. Maywood's," she said. "I thought you might have gone to Maudie's after... after the way I behaved last night and this morning."

"I already told you, she charges too much," said Beni.

"Don't pretend you've never gone sneaking to her door, Beni. I'm not stupid."

"Well there are certain things only a whore will do. It is not too late for you to learn them."

"Between me and Maudie, you ought to be satisfied. Why do you need opium?"

"It is not for me, so don't look at me like that," Beni whined.

"Then who is it for?"

He blew out an irritable stream of cigarette smoke. "God, you will keep asking me and asking me until I finally tell you, won't you?"

"Who is it for?" Lillian repeated.

"Nobody you would know. There are some prostitutes on the other side of town who will buy drugs for next to nothing, and they can't give you any shit if you piss them off." Beni smirked around his cigarette. "They are good customers. Most of them are too stupid to argue about the price."

Maudie was right about Beni. He would never mend his sorry ways and only a man like Beni would peddle drugs to the lowest of the low, the only kind of women who were too downtrodden to fight back.

It had been a long day and it was bound to be a long night with Beni at her side, but she tried to cheer herself up with thoughts of seeing Rick, who had been at the back of her mind all day. She meant to drop by his apartment and see if he was home ages ago, but one thing led to another and she longed for his steady, reassuring presence to bring some normality to the sea of confusion that had swallowed her whole. She made Beni take a bath, since she suspected he hadn't washed up since yesterday, and anxiously kept her eye on the clock until seven began to approach.

She couldn't remember the last time she had gone out for drinks with Rick. She couldn't remember the last time she had done anything with a man who was interested in her conversation, rather than the possibility of getting under her skirt, and she was nervous when she locked up her apartment and got into her car with Beni. He insisted on lounging in the back seat, since it amused him to pretend that she was his own personal driver, and she was glad that Beni had always hated to drive, or else she would probably never see her car again. She could almost ignore him when he sat in the back, though once in a while he would kick her seat by accident and she would know he was there, taking a free ride from her just like he took everything without a word of thanks.

She really _had_ given him too much, and it was starting to bother her. He couldn't keep taking her handouts forever.

The bar Rick picked out was one she hadn't visited in at least a year, before Andrew betrayed her and she retreated to the slums where nothing mattered. It was the kind of bar that welcomed nice girls like Darlene Hutchins, the kind that was suspicious of shifty little weasels like Beni Gabor, and Lillian felt like an outsider when she parked her car.

"Are you going to take my arm as we walk inside?" she asked Beni.

He seemed prepared to give her an immediate "no," but then he looked at her for a moment and allowed a smug little smile to spread across his face. "Yes," he said with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "I think I will."

He clutched at her possessively, taking her arm in a grip that felt like a shackle, and Lillian had never been more aware that Beni really _was _all she had. Rick was with Darlene, Lillian had nothing in common with her family, and her only friend in the neighborhood was a woman who shared herself among dozens of different men. She entered the bar clutched in Beni's grasp, wishing she could feel something for him besides pity and a need to ease her loneliness, but her feelings hadn't changed in the least bit. She didn't think they ever would. Still, she was determined to enjoy herself despite the smug, obnoxious way Beni held onto her, and she reminded herself that walking into the bar with Beni was better than joining Rick and Darlene all alone.

Darlene spotted her first and waved her arms in the air, looking as unconventional as ever with her long hair piled on top of her head. "Lillian, over here!" she called out in her smoky voice.

Rick acknowledged Lillian with a silent nod. His eyes landed on Beni, who suddenly looked nervous and held onto Lillian a little tighter.

"And you must be Rick's friend!" Darlene told Beni, oblivious to the tension in the room. "Rick didn't think you would show up, you know. Isn't that right, Rick? You said he wouldn't show up, but here he is and I'm _so_ glad."

"This is Beni," said Rick. "Beni, this is Darlene."

Beni let go of Lillian and slid into a seat, though he kept glancing nervously at Rick. "It is a pleasure to meet you," he told Darlene. He could sound perfectly charming when he wanted to.

Lillian sat beside him, though she kept as much distance between them as possible. "How are you, Rick?" she asked.

"How are _you_?" Rick asked. "I was gonna call, but you don't have a phone."

"You don't have a phone?" said Darlene, staring at Lillian with round eyes. "How on earth do you survive?"

"The old-fashioned way," said Lillian. She couldn't possibly tell Darlene that she _did _own a telephone once upon a time, and that it used to ring throughout the days of her far-off, innocent girlhood, before the war called all the young men overseas. Rick had been one of those young men, though he only vanished from her life for six months and wrote as often as he could, but she couldn't tell Darlene any of it. She wanted to keep that dear, bittersweet past all to herself.

"I don't know how you do it," said Darlene. "I would just die if I didn't have a phone." She turned to Beni, who sat watching her in silence. "I've heard that you're _Jewish_. Is it really true?"

"I guess you could say that," said Beni.

"Oh, I'm thrilled! You're the first Jew I've ever met. Do you ever wear one of those funny little hats?"

"No," said Beni. "I do not wear the funny hat."

"Do you have a lot of money?"

"No," said Beni, glaring at her a little.

"He's not Jewish enough for that," said Rick. He noticed the frown on Beni's face and hesitated a moment, as if searching hard for words that didn't come easily, and said, "Look, uh, no hard feelings about the other night, Beni. We're still pals."

Beni sat with his arms crossed over his chest. "Pals do not break each other's ribs."

"I wish you'd stop talking about your ribs," said Lillian. "You know they're fine."

"It won't happen again," said Rick. "Unless you deserve it."

"I am a changed man now, O'Connell," said Beni, trading his frown for wide-eyed innocence. He put one of his skinny arms around Lillian, his fingers squeezing her waist hard enough to hurt. "I have responsibilities, you see, because Lillian might be having my baby!"

"_Lillian!_" Darlene gasped. "That isn't true, is it?"

"No," said Lillian, pinching Beni's arm so he would release her. She hadn't felt so mortified since the day Andrew came to her and broke off their engagement. She couldn't look at Rick. "I don't know if Rick told you, but Beni is something of a joker. He thinks he's being funny right now."

"Oh no, it is true," Beni told Darlene in earnest. "Isn't that what you told me this morning, Lillian my dear? That you might be having a baby?"

"I said it's possible, Beni, but that's no one's business but ours."

"So you two are _together_," Darlene remarked, looking at Lillian and Beni in awe. "You two, of all people! And you could be parents!" She clapped a hand to her mouth, though Lillian couldn't tell if it was from horror or delight. "Oh, my. You would have to get married to avoid a scandal."

"Yes," Beni said with an infuriating grin at Lillian.

"And what faith would your baby be? Do you think you'd raise it to be Jewish?"

"What do you think, Lillian?" said Beni, placing a hand on her leg. "Would you like our child to be Jewish?"

"Knock it off, Beni," said Rick. His voice was low and dangerous, his shoulders tense. "It's not funny anymore."

Beni jerked his hand away from Lillian and flashed a guilty smile at Rick. "Pardon me if I can't keep the good news to myself. I am just so excited at the idea of being a father!"

"Stop it," Lillian said weakly. "Just stop."

Something in Rick's face made Beni surrender and he slumped in his seat, sulkily crossing his arms over his chest once more. Rick found Lillian's eyes and motioned towards the back of the bar. "Come on," he said. "We need to talk."

"Aww, Rick, it's all right!" said Darlene. "We were only having a little fun!"

Lillian wordlessly got out of her seat and followed Rick across the room, wishing she could disappear and never return. She had left her purse at the table in her hurry to get away, but she hardly missed its absence and spent the entire walk with her eyes on the floor, letting the sound of Rick's footsteps be her guide. She was afraid that every person in the bar could see right through her, silently judging her for the sorry life she led, and she dreaded Rick's judgment most of all. He led her to a cool, silent little hall that led to some back room—perhaps an office or a storeroom—and stood with his back against the wall. Lillian dared to look into his face and saw none of the revulsion she feared. She saw nothing at all, which worried her more.

"Are you ashamed of me?" she asked quietly.

"No," he said. He looked taller than he ever had before, staring her down with those unreadable eyes. "Why Beni, Lil?"

"I've told you, it's hard to explain."

"If he forced you—"

"No," Lillian said quickly, flushing with embarrassment. "He hasn't done any harm, really."

"So are you, uh... _you know_?" Rick asked. He looked away from her, stumbling over the words.

"I don't know," she said. She felt perfectly fine, the same as she felt yesterday and the day before that, and she wanted to tell Rick that _no_, there was no chance of fatherhood in Beni's near future, but she had to tell him the truth; she had no idea. She supposed she would find out soon enough.

"Oh," said Rick. He looked at her for one uncomfortable moment, in which she felt like all of her faults had been put on display. "Let me buy you a drink."

"I'm not in the mood for drinks anymore," said Lillian.

"Then I'll break Beni's nose for you."

"He deserves it. But I'm not in the mood for that either." She felt numb, too tired to be properly angry. "I'm not the girl you once knew, Rick."

"I don't care," he said. "And I really will break Beni's nose, if you want me to."

She couldn't help but smile. "Don't trouble yourself. I guess you can buy me that drink."

"Fine. I'll do that." He remained in his spot against the wall, making no move to leave the secluded hall and rejoin the crowd that lay beyond. "I'm sorry about Darlene," he added, as if the thought had just occurred to him. "She gets, uh, excited about things easily."

"I noticed," said Lillian.

"She was out of line tonight."

"Beni started it." She took a step away from Rick, afraid that if she lingered alone with him one moment longer, she would lose her composure and spill every worry that had piled upon her shoulders in the last three years. "We'd better go back. He could be getting into all kinds of mischief when we're not looking."

She could see in his eyes that he understood absolutely nothing, and that he probably never would, but he offered her his arm and she took it gladly, no longer caring who saw her or what they thought. She wasn't going to let Beni Gabor defeat her.


	15. Out of the Darkness

Out of the Darkness

When Lillian and Rick returned to their table they found Darlene sitting on the edge of her seat, engrossed in conversation with Beni. "And you have no idea who your father is?" she asked eagerly. "Absolutely _no idea_ at all?"

"How could my poor mother possibly know?" Beni said smugly, clearly enjoying Darlene's fascination with every word that fell from his lips. "She was a whore. It could have been any man."

"That's so tragic," said Darlene, sounding thrilled. She spotted Rick and Lillian and waved them over. "Rick, where on earth did you find this man? His mother was a lady of the night and he doesn't know who his father is. Isn't that simply the saddest thing you've ever heard?"

"Yeah," said Rick, shooting a skeptical look at Beni. "His life's a real sad story, all right."

"He says he can't read either!" Darlene added. "Not even his name. Haven't you ever wanted to learn, Beni?"

Beni's eyes flicked over to Lillian, who stood silently and discreetly beside Rick. "Of course I have always wanted to learn," he said sadly. "But nobody has bothered to teach me."

Lillian tried to keep her anger in check, though she longed to slap the whine right out of his voice. She had tried to teach Beni his letters, but he spent the entire time making fun of the lesson until she finally gave up, unwilling to waste her time on a man who refused to learn. He thought he was so clever and sarcastic, making jabs at her attempts to educate him, but she knew he was afraid of her books and their countless pages of indecipherable words. She knew he was afraid that he would fail, that he really was the stupid piece of gutter trash that everyone thought he was.

"Oh, you really to ought to learn," Darlene told Beni. "I would love to hear you read something with that accent of yours. Wouldn't you just love to hear him read something, Rick? He'd make a boring old news story sound _so_ exotic."

Rick snorted and took the empty seat next to Beni, who immediately flinched as if he expected Rick to knock him off his chair, and left Lillian to sit beside Darlene. He didn't say it in words, but Lillian knew he was trying to spare her the discomfort of sitting beside Beni, and she was grateful for the gesture as she took her seat and accepted her purse from Rick. She didn't speak to Beni, preferring to ignore him for the rest of the evening, and allowed herself to be distracted by Darlene's chatter as she sipped on the cocktails that Rick generously ordered. Nobody mentioned the conversation that happened earlier and Lillian was willing to pretend that it had never happened. She still couldn't look in Beni's direction without feeling embarrassed all over again.

When it was time to leave she assured Rick that everything was fine, as if saying the words out loud could make them come true, and walked out of the bar knowing that Beni would follow her. Sure enough she heard his sneaking footsteps behind her, the kind of footsteps that sounded fearful even when no danger was at hand, and waited until she was outside before she turned around and faced him. Beni had relaxed considerably that evening, once he realized that Rick wasn't going to hurt him, and he spent the entire time basking in the fact that Darlene was entranced by every horrible, sordid detail of his life. He smirked and headed straight for the backseat of her car, but Lillian put out a hand and stopped him.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" said Beni. "You are taking me home."

"After the way you behaved tonight? You're lucky I didn't have Rick dismember you."

"Sure, like he would really do that for _you. _You are not his girlfriend."

"Do you enjoy hurting me?" Lillian asked. She wanted nothing more than to get inside her car and escape the desert chill that had descended upon the city, but the numbness that took hold of her in the bar was fading. The anger that had simmered below the surface was ready to erupt.

"What the hell are you talking about?" said Beni.

He disgusted her, just like Harold Sheffield disgusted her with his unwanted advances and his horrible lies, but Beni wasn't Harold Sheffield. He had no power. "I've given you more than you could possibly deserve," she said, "and yet you constantly hurt me and I think you enjoy it. Does it give you a thrill, thinking you can be as unpleasant as you want just because I'm a woman?"

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "You are the one who let me into your apartment. You cannot complain."

"You embarrassed me tonight, Beni. You can't go around telling people that it's possible for us to have a baby together. You just can't."

"Everything is always about you, isn't it?" he said. "It had nothing to do with you."

"Then why did you say it?"

"It is better for me if people think you are knocked up. All you have to do is tell somebody to think of your children and they will be more likely to spare your life."

"Even if you don't _have_ children?"

He looked at her with cold eyes that had seen nothing but desperation. "I do what I can to survive."

"My God," she said quietly. "How pathetic you are."

"I'm sorry about earlier, all right?" he said, not sounding sorry at all. "Now let's go home."

It would be so easy to give in, just like she had given in to him so many times over the weeks, and Lillian almost stepped aside. She almost succumbed to her own foolish weakness, but then she thought of a dark, dismal future in which she _always_ gave in to Beni, letting him walk all over her the way Harold and Andrew had walked all over her, and the very idea frightened her. It frightened her that she had started to care about herself again, after months of letting despair drag her down until she was shameless enough to sleep with a man like Beni, and now she couldn't let him into her car. She couldn't step aside and let him use her again.

"_I'm_ going home," she told Beni. She knew he could push her aside and let himself into the car, but it felt good to tell him no. "You can find yourself a cab."

His eyes grew wide. "What the hell, Lillian? I said I was sorry."

"But you're not sorry, Beni. You'll never be sorry for anything you do."

"Well don't blame me if you are unhappy," he said. "You _wanted _to take me home and make me coffee and read me your stupid Shakespeare. You let me screw you because you wanted it."

"Stop it."

"You know I'm right. And leaving me on the street is not going to make O'Connell come running to your bed."

"Rick has nothing to do with this."

Beni gave her a wicked grin. "Oh, he doesn't? I have seen the way you look at him and heard the way you talk about him, but O'Connell is not yours. All you've got is me, my dear."

"I don't need you," said Lillian. "You can sleep somewhere else tonight."

"Are you forgetting that I have a key to your apartment? You gave it to me yourself."

"Then _I'll_ sleep somewhere else. Just as long as I'm far away from you."

She turned her back on Beni and got into the driver's seat, then stepped on the gas so hard that her tires screeched on the dusty ground. After speeding through several streets her anger cooled and she slowed the car, making her way through the dark city until her neighborhood drew near. The narrow lanes felt suffocating, the old buildings spooky in the moonlight, and she wondered what she was doing there. Her apartment was certainly nothing special; no electric lights, no telephone, not even a carpet for the hard wooden floors, and she hadn't done anything to deserve such a bare, lonely life. Why did she stay in that old, crumbling building with a man who was determined to be horrible in every way? Why did she keep punishing herself for something that wasn't her fault?

Harold would surely laugh at her if he could see her now, living among the poor and the broken because she couldn't face her own world. He would laugh, knowing he had put her there. Andrew would merely shake his head and turn away, glad that he hadn't married such a woman. _I always knew Lillian Murray was nothing but trouble_, he would tell his perfect wife over a perfect cup of tea. _Which is why I married _you_, my dear._

And Rick... Rick _had _seen how far she had fallen, but he hadn't turned his back on her. He was still there, somewhere in the city with Darlene at his side, and she longed to find him again and have him all to herself, just like the morning they had coffee together the day before. Was it really only the day before? Lillian drove slowly through the streets, her car practically crawling past the run-down buildings, past the street walkers and addicts and revelers that all came out to worship the night, and she felt embarrassed all over again, knowing she couldn't possibly go knocking on Rick's door.

Yet she couldn't go home either, not when Beni might come sneaking into her room. She doubted Maudie was entertaining anyone that night, thanks to the money Lillian had left in her apartment, but staying at Maudie's place was out of the question. It was too close to her own apartment, too close to Beni and the squalid life she had chosen for herself.

She couldn't possibly impose on Mrs. Maywood either. She doubted Mrs. Maywood would mind; in fact, she would probably be delighted to have unexpected company at such an unexpected hour, but Mrs. Maywood already knew too much about her.

Which left her with the option of her family home, where nobody knew anything real about her, and Lillian smiled bitterly as she thought of what her parents would do if she arrived on their doorstep. Greet her politely and pretend she had never left, no doubt, while subtly pushing her towards the idea that she really _should _get married. Andrew would have been _such_ a fine catch, but surely there were other men in Cairo who would do just as well, if only she would take the time to meet them.

No, she couldn't possibly rejoin that shallow little world. She had seen too much to ever go back.

Lillian drove out of her neighborhood and into the tourist district, where the museum loomed high beneath the glow of the moon. She leisurely made her way past it, aware that she would run out of gas if she kept up her wanderings, and that she would have to buy some at a drug store soon, and finally slowed to a halt in front of a hotel. Not the cheap, seedy kind of hotel that Beni and her neighbors would frequent, but a bright, clean building where tourists came to lay their heads after a long journey by boat or railway. The kind of building where Lillian could be anonymous for one night, where nobody she knew could possibly find her, and she stepped out of her car and into a beautiful lobby where potted ferns and glowing chandeliers welcomed her indoors.

Feeling blissfully alone, Lillian strolled up to the hotel clerk and asked for a room.


	16. Mistakes Made

Mistakes Made

Lillian spent the morning in luxury. The hotel she had chosen wasn't the fanciest or the most expensive, but she felt like waking up in a palace after the endless nights in her dark little apartment. She was all alone in a neat, clean room with soft carpet and the loveliest electric lamps, and she didn't have to listen to Beni muttering Hungarian nonsense to himself in his sleep. She didn't have to worry about him watching her when she got dressed in the morning, or demanding that she make him coffee, or putting up a fuss when she suggested he take a bath. She didn't have to hear the neighbors arguing next door or see the broken-down beggars who huddled on the streets outside. All was peaceful in the hotel and she could almost forget there was a darker world out there, where people like Beni had spent their lives trapped in poverty.

She took a steaming hot bath in a private bathroom, allowing herself to soak as long as she liked without somebody pounding on the door, demanding to know when she was finished. She knew she couldn't stay in the hotel forever, though; all of her belongings were at her apartment and she needed to get ready to go to St. Elizabeth's in a couple of hours. She couldn't possibly go to the orphanage wearing yesterday's wrinkled clothes. After a quiet breakfast she found herself on the road again, thinking back to last night as she drove to her apartment. She supposed it was childish of her to drive away from Beni last night, but he had been far more childish and had no right to say any of the things he said. He was probably sprawled on her bed that very moment, taking advantage of her absence, and she hoped he had sold off all his opium before retiring for the night.

Drugs were dangerous. Beni could have been storing them in her apartment all along without her knowledge, but she wasn't going to let him get away with it any longer. If he wanted to sell opium, he would have to find some other place to put it.

Her apartment was dark and silent when she opened the door. A quick inspection of each room told her that Beni wasn't home, and that he had likely spent the night elsewhere. Everything was exactly as she left it the evening before. She knew she ought to be glad he had decided to avoid her home, but she missed him just a little and felt guilty for driving him away. She supposed he could find some other place to lay his head and leech off whoever was foolish enough to get taken in by his sad eyes and pathetic whine, but Lillian didn't think there was anyone else willing to put up with Beni for as long as she had. Surely he would come creeping back to her door sooner or later, expecting handouts like he always did, and she didn't know if she would have the strength to keep refusing him. Her night at the hotel had been relaxing, but it had also been lonely.

Lillian wanted to kick herself as she changed her clothes. She was being ridiculous. She had Maudie, she had Mrs. Maywood, she had _Rick_, and if she wanted company she could easily find someone more appealing than Beni Gabor. She was better off if he never came back.

Unless there was a child. She was truly starting to worry now and supposed she should check her calendar, regretting the day she let Beni put his hands on her. It had been so easy to give herself to a man she didn't love, so easy to let herself be used by a man who would never love her, and the idea of a man like Beni becoming a father was unthinkable. Yet it was far from impossible. Any man could become a father, even a despicable one like Beni, and it was men like Beni who were responsible for creating far too many of the children who lived at St. Elizabeth's. She didn't want to add to their number.

Lillian grabbed a hat to shield her face from the sun and stepped outside, remembering the tidy streets of the tourist district, where wealthy Americans and Europeans had no idea that so many poor, filthy people lived in Cairo; either that or they chose to avert their eyes from the squalor, pretending that the poor and the tired didn't exist. For all her parents' faults, at least they made an effort to help the less fortunate, even if they preferred to do it from a safe distance, and Lillian was starting to wonder if it was better to help from afar. Getting involved with the poor had brought her nothing but trouble.

She only managed to walk three steps down the street before a hand reached out and grabbed her arm. Lillian gasped and almost started shrieking for help, thinking Baqir had found her yet again, but the man who grabbed her was not Baqir. He was dressed in similar black robes and was clearly Arabic, though he was younger than Baqir and had no physical disfigurement that Lillian could see, aside from the black tattoos that marred his face.

"I have been waiting for you," he said, keeping his hand wrapped around her arm. His voice was calm yet firm, his eyes intense as he looked down at her.

"Who are you?" Lillian demanded. She was tired of people coming out of nowhere and thinking they could grab her whenever they pleased. "If you're one of the Med-Jai, I want nothing to do with you. You've already meddled enough."

"If it wasn't for our meddling, as you put it, the world as you see it today would not exist," he said. He turned his gaze to her apartment, looking up at the rows of dingy windows that peered out from the upper floors. "I must speak to you privately. The key you carry is more important than you know."

"It's only an old key. What could possibly be so special about it?"

"Come," he said, giving her a slight tug in the direction of her apartment. "We have a lot to discuss."

Lillian hesitated. She wondered if she should call for help anyway, just in case he had something sinister up his sleeve.

"You may lead the way of your own free will," he said, as if he could guess her thoughts. "Or you can allow _me_ to do it."

She resented this strange desert man and his mysterious demands, but at least he didn't have a hook for a hand. She wordlessly stepped back into her apartment and led the way up the stairs, figuring she might as well do as he asked, just in case he had something worse than a hook hidden beneath his robes, and her hand shook as she unlocked her door. She hated the way his dark eyes stared at her, intently fixed upon her every move.

She deliberately left the door open as she entered her apartment, the man in black trailing behind her like a shadow. "Are you finally going to tell me who you are?" she asked.

He looked out of place in her cramped apartment, glancing curiously at the furniture. "My name is Ardeth."

Ardeth, the man who caused so much trouble to Mrs. Maywood's half-sister. The man who was responsible for all of Lillian's unanswered questions. "I've heard of you," she said, trying to imagine how a man like him could have destroyed a woman's marriage. She supposed he was handsome enough, but the tattoos and mysterious manner were certainly off-putting.

"I suppose you have," said Ardeth. "What do you know about Hamunaptra?"

"Only that it's supposed to be a myth and apparently has a terrible curse on it. Which I don't believe in, by the way."

"There _is_ a curse, whether you believe in it or not. Two years ago I lost the key that could lead to the world's destruction, but I understand it is in your hands now. I must have it back."

"Why should I believe anything you say?" said Lillian. "You could be a clever scam artist, trying to trick me into giving you something valuable."

"I care nothing for treasure," said Ardeth. "It is my duty to prevent a great catastrophe from occurring."

She couldn't possibly believe him. He had spent too much time under Egypt's brutal sun and the heat had turned his head. "You can't make me do anything," she said. "I know about Janey."

He looked startled, something she didn't expect from such a serious, stoic man. "What did you say?"

"Your daughter Janey. I know she exists."

"You have been talking to Francine," said Ardeth.

"If you mean Mrs. Maywood, then yes, I have. And I don't think very highly of your character."

"You do not understand."

"I understand that you've made a woman in this city very unhappy. As far as I'm concerned, you don't deserve to have your key back."

Ardeth looked at her for a long moment, striking a tall, imposing figure in his black robes. "I know you live with a man named Beni Gabor," he said. "You should not be so quick to judge me."

Lillian's face grew hot with embarrassment. "That's completely different. I didn't cause anyone to get divorced."

"I made a mistake," said Ardeth.

"Why did you turn your back on Mrs. Maywood's sister? You have a little girl who's growing up without her father."

"It is more complicated than you can imagine," said Ardeth. He seemed weary and defeated suddenly, no longer the proud leader of the Med-Jai. "I did not intend to discuss this with you, but I'm willing to tell you everything if it will make you sympathetic to my cause."

Lillian didn't like him, but she wasn't afraid of him either. He was much different from Baqir, whose only intent was to frighten her into submission, and she wanted to hear his side of the story. She wanted to know why he believed in curses, and why he was so desperate to recover the key that had been stolen from him. "You can sit down, if you want," she said, gesturing awkwardly at a chair. She had never entertained a desert tribesman before. "You don't drink, do you?"

"No," said Ardeth, taking the seat she offered him. He sat stiffly, as if he wasn't used to sitting on a soft, upholstered seat, and Lillian supposed he probably wasn't. He absently rubbed at the side of his face, running his fingers along the dark stubble that covered his cheek, and frowned at the wooden coffee table. "Francine was not supposed to tell anyone about my daughter. She has promised to keep it a secret."

"I'm pretty sure I'm the only one she's told," said Lillian, taking the seat across from him.

"She has made me buy her silence," Ardeth said bitterly. "Sometimes I give her gold. Sometimes it is opium. In exchange, she promises to keep quiet and allows me to see my daughter occasionally. Little Janey is only two years old and does not know I'm her father." A rueful smile tugged unhappily at the corner of his mouth. "She does not even know what a father is. Clarissa keeps her shut away from the world, to hide the color of her hair and her skin."

"You can't really blame her," said Lillian. "You won't acknowledge your child properly, just so you can pretend to be someone you're not."

Ardeth looked at her as if he had never seen her before. "Forgive me, but I never asked for your name."

"It's Lillian."

"I am a married man, Lillian. I love the three women who are honored to be my wives, and I love my other children. If my tribe discovers that I have committed adultery and created a child outside of marriage, I will lose everything. I will no longer be trusted to guard Hamunaptra and the terrible evil that rests there. My wives will be devastated and my children will be taken from me."

"That's awfully cruel."

"I have realized my people's laws are not perfect," said Ardeth. "But the law is the law. I cannot afford to lose everything I have, though it breaks my heart that nobody can ever know that Janey is my daughter."

"I won't tell anyone," said Lillian. "And you don't have to bribe me to keep silent either."

Ardeth's smile lost its bitter edge. "Thank you."

"I don't understand why Mrs. Maywood would blackmail you, though. You're her niece's father."

"Francine and Clarissa are not close. There are too many years between them, I suppose."

"That still doesn't give her a reason to treat you that way, even if you _did_ ruin her sister."

"Francine never told you why she resents me so greatly?" Ardeth asked.

"You mean there's something else aside from the Clarissa problem?"

"Ask her sometime. Perhaps she will tell you the truth."

Lillian assumed that was all he would say on the matter, even if she continued to ask questions. When he first grabbed her in front of her building, she was ready to dismiss him as another mysterious figure bent on causing trouble, but Ardeth had managed to gain more of her sympathy in a single morning than Beni had done in three months.

"I'd like to hear about the curse on Hamunaptra," she said, steering the subject back to its original course. "It sounds interesting."

Perhaps she would give him the key after all. Not because she believed in any myths or curses, but because he deserved to have something he had lost, even if it couldn't replace all the things he didn't have.


	17. Hypocrites and Liars

Hypocrites and Liars

"So you actually believe that this Imhotep person can rise from the dead?" Lillian asked.

She had to admit that the curse was fascinating, but she was tempted to laugh at how seriously Ardeth spoke when he told her about the Hom Dai, supposedly the most terrible of all the ancient Egyptian curses. He behaved as if the Ten Plagues were just around the corner and insisted that Imhotep—a priest who had been buried alive three thousand years ago—would come back to life if anyone read from the Book of the Dead. Lillian had never heard of the Book of the Dead, but apparently it could only be opened with the key Rick had given her.

"I have spent my entire life believing in the curse," Ardeth replied, gazing solemnly back at her. "It is real, or else my people would not fear it so."

"But how do you know it's real? You don't have any proof, do you?"

"You do not need proof to believe."

He sounded so sincere that she envied him a little. It had been so long since she believed in anything. "I'm sorry, but it all sounds like superstition to me," said Lillian. "I mean, if nobody has ever set foot in Hamunaptra or read from that book, then you have no way of knowing if the curse is even real. It all happened thousands of years ago, after all."

"I must admit that you are right," said Ardeth. "But the risk is too great. It is better to keep our eye on Hamunaptra, never knowing if the curse will come to pass, then to turn our backs and leave it to chance. The key must remain under our watch."

"So that's all, then? You want the key so you can keep it hidden away for another three thousand years, holding your breath for a disaster that might be only a myth?"

"I take my duty seriously, Lillian. For two years my people have been uneasy, wondering if the key would fall into the wrong hands."

"And this has nothing to do with the fact that Clarissa's the one who stole it from you?"

Ardeth flinched. "Clarissa did not understand the significance of her actions. She didn't believe in the curse either."

"I'll give you the key," said Lillian. "Maybe it will remind you not to make any more big mistakes."

"Thank you," said Ardeth. His shoulders relaxed and he looked a little less awkward, a little less strange and intimidating. "And perhaps you will take your own advice. This is no place for you."

Lillian tried not to let his words bother her as she got up and looked for her handbag. Ardeth didn't know her. He had no right to say anything about a situation he didn't understand, and yet she couldn't get his words out of her mind. They were both hypocrites, living their double lives and pretending everything was normal, when it was completely and utterly wrong. She found her handbag where she had left it that morning, after she came back from the hotel, and reached into the bag expecting to feel cold, solid metal against her skin. The only metal she felt was a handful of coins scattered at the bottom.

"Shit," Lillian whispered.

She normally didn't swear, but the word had never felt more appropriate. She turned her handbag upside-down and dumped everything out, then searched every empty corner, but the key was nowhere to be found. She spent a few frantic minutes searching her apartment, looking in every possible hiding place, but she already knew she was wasting her time and returned to Ardeth with empty hands, feeling more upset than she expected. It was only an old key that she intended to give up, but now that it was missing she felt like something significant had been ripped away from her.

"It's gone," she told Ardeth.

The look in his eyes frightened her. "What do you mean?"

"The key is gone. I—I think Beni took it. We were having drinks last night and I left my bag at the table for a few minutes, and he must have found it."

"Allah save us," Ardeth muttered. "We must find him immediately."

"He knows how to find Hamunaptra," said Lillian.

"I know. I am well aware of the little game he plays with the tourists in exchange for their money."

"If you know about it, then why haven't you done anything to stop him? And what exactly does Beni _do_ when he goes out to the desert?"

"My people have had their eye on Beni Gabor since his fellow soldiers were massacred a few months ago," said Ardeth. "Twice now he has taken tourists down the Nile, claiming he could take them to Hamunaptra, and then abandoned them in the desert. So far Hamunaptra has remained undiscovered."

"That's all you care about?" Lillian said in disbelief. "You're letting Beni get away with that just so you can fulfill your duty?"

Ardeth's face was stony, his dark eyes unreadable. "I do not agree with what he does. But it helps encourage the rumor that those who seek the lost city never return."

Lillian glanced at the door she had left open. She didn't think Ardeth would hurt her, since they seemed to have reached an understanding, but she felt odd being alone with him. She knew his biggest secret, and yet she knew nothing about him at all. "I don't know what to make of you," she said.

Ardeth managed a slight smile. "If it makes you feel better, I do not know what to make of you either. I do not understand you American women."

"Clarissa's American, isn't she?"

"Clarissa is... different," Ardeth said slowly. "She is not like the other women from her country. She should have been born Med-Jai." A little sigh escaped his lips. "She is the woman I should have been married to all along, if she was not American and if we had met before she was wed."

"You said you love your wives," Lillian reminded him.

"It is true that I have married three wonderful women, and that I could not ask for better wives, but I married them out of duty. Among my people it is a sign of success if you can support more than one wife. Being able to support several means you have achieved a truly elevated status."

"You have an awful lot of duties in your life."

Another smile crossed Ardeth's face, lighting his stern eyes for just a moment. "I suppose I do, don't I? But now we must search for Beni Gabor and recover what he has stolen. Do you know where I might find him?"

"I haven't seen him since last night," said Lillian. "He never came... home." She hesitated on the last word, hating to admit out loud that she and Beni lived together, even though Ardeth already knew. She was angry with herself for leaving her bag behind last night. She was angry with Beni for doing whatever he pleased, with no regard for anyone else, and she found it hard to look at Ardeth. "And even if we found him, it won't do us any good. He's probably sold the key and skipped town by now."

"He is not a good man," said Ardeth.

"No. He isn't."

"And yet you have opened your home to him. You are very compassionate."

"I'm not compassionate at all, I'm afraid," said Lillian. "First I felt sorry for him. Then I thought I needed him. And now... now I don't know anymore." She looked at the clock that hung on the wall, watching the time tick past. She had planned to go to the orphanage that day, but she couldn't possibly face the children with so much weighing on her mind. "I'd like to help you find Beni, though. I think he'll be more likely to talk to you if I'm around."

Ardeth immediately rose to his feet. "Then let us begin our search."

After a brief chat with Maudie, Lillian discovered that Beni had been in the neighborhood last night, but he didn't stay long. "Little bugger came creepin' to me door, o' course, but I told him I wasn't seein' no men that night," Maudie told her unabashedly, and Lillian had to hold back a smile at the uncomfortable look on Ardeth's face. She _did_ allow herself to laugh when he balked at the idea of riding in her car. He preferred horses, he firmly insisted, but Lillian didn't know how to ride a horse and finally coaxed him into the passenger's seat of her car. He was uneasy the entire time she drove around Cairo, making her way through all of Beni's favorite haunts, and after her fifth failed attempt to find Beni he suggested they stop at the museum.

"The curator is Med-Jai. He should be aware of this new problem," he said. "And I would like to be on familiar ground after riding around in this terrible contraption."

Lillian didn't see how a fussy, impatient man like Terence Bey could possibly help them, but she followed Ardeth's advice and drove to the museum. She could use a rest herself after poking her head into Cairo's seediest bars and liquor stores, looking for a man who clearly didn't want to be found. The Museum of Antiquities was as hushed and quiet as ever, so different from the noisy little bars that Beni often visited, and Lillian couldn't help but feel a little nervous as she followed Ardeth through the front doors. Last time she visited the museum, Baqir threatened to cut her face open with his hook, and she half-expected to find him lurking behind the various displays that filled the museum's halls.

It didn't take long for them to locate Dr. Terence Bey. He was cloistered within his neat, tidy office, seated behind his desk with a pair of reading glasses perched upon his nose, and looked up from a leather-bound book as Ardeth swept into the room, Lillian trailing behind him.

"Ardeth, what is the meaning of this?" he asked, abruptly removing his glasses. "You could at least have the decency to knock."

"There is no time for that," said Ardeth. "Hamunaptra's lost key has been found."

Dr. Bey sat up straighter in his seat, no longer frowning. "How? It's been buried in the desert for two whole years." His eyes strayed past Ardeth and landed on Lillian, who stood by the doorway trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. "Miss Murray, what on earth are _you_ doing here?"

"She is with me," said Ardeth.

"Well sit down, both of you. This is extraordinary news." Dr. Bey shut his book with a snap and pushed it aside, absently setting his glasses on top of it, and watched in agitated silence as Ardeth and Lillian seated themselves on a couple of chairs that sat against the wall. "Is it truly the key?" he demanded the moment they were seated. "There have been an awful lot of forgers dealing in Cairo lately."

"It came from Hamunaptra," said Lillian. "The man who gave it to me found it there."

"And what man is this?"

Lillian hesitated until a stern look from Ardeth urged her to respond. "His name's Rick."

"He is one of the two soldiers who recently found Hamunaptra and survived," Ardeth added.

"So it has truly been found," Dr. Bey murmured. "Have you brought it with you?" he asked Lillian.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, hating the hopeful light in his eyes. "Actually, there's been a bit of a problem."

"Do you have the key or not, Miss Murray?"

"No," she admitted. "But I know who has it."

"Well, you have both succeeded in wasting several minutes of my time!" Dr. Bey exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "I would accuse you of playing a joke on me if Ardeth here was the joking type."

"It is no joke," said Ardeth. He began speaking to Dr. Bey in rapid Arabic and Lillian strained her ears as the two of them conversed, trying to pick up a word here and there. She didn't speak the language at all, but she understood a little and wished she had been more rebellious when she was a girl. Her parents didn't want her to learn Arabic.

"I see," said Dr. Bey, switching back to English. Ardeth had apparently explained the whole situation. He shot an irritated look at Lillian. "You are a very careless woman. Do you have any idea what you may have cost us?"

"She made a mistake," Ardeth said gently. "We all make mistakes."

"We can't _afford_ to make mistakes where Hamunaptra is concerned!"

"Pardon me." A woman with long, dark hair poked her head into the open doorway of the office. Lillian had never met her, but she fit the descriptions Douglas had given of the new librarian who started a few months before. "I couldn't help but overhear as I walked by," she told Dr. Bey eagerly. "Did somebody mention Hamunaptra?"

"There's no such thing as Hamunaptra," said Dr. Bey.

"But—"

"Back to work with you, girl. There's a library that needs to be managed."

The woman looked at him with her mouth open for a moment, then clamped up and strode away. Dr. Bey pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Miss Evelyn Carnahan," he explained. "Can't get rid of her, unfortunately. Her parents donated a good deal of money when they were alive."

"You lied to her just now," said Lillian.

"A necessary precaution," said Dr. Bey. "It is our duty to discourage anyone from finding the City of the Dead. We will have to guard the port to make certain this man—this Beni Gabor fellow, or whatever his name is—makes no attempt to find it while the key is in his possession."

"I really doubt he knows what the key is for," said Lillian. She didn't think Beni had any intention of going to Hamunaptra either, if he had a habit of abandoning people in the desert.

"But he may encounter someone who does," Dr. Bey pointed out.

"Lillian believes he may attempt to sell it," said Ardeth.

"Then I will keep an eye out for it. Some dealer may purchase it and bring it here. In the meantime, try a little harder to locate this man." Dr. Bey's eyes were fixed sternly upon Lillian.

"I can't make any promises," she said.

"I'm not asking for a promise," said Dr. Bey, placing his reading glasses back upon his nose. "I only ask that you don't fail."


	18. The Shirt On His Back

The Shirt On His Back

Lillian hadn't seen Beni in five days.

Her apartment felt much too quiet without his whiny accent and his quick, nervous footsteps, and she made an effort to go out and about as much as possible. It wasn't Beni she missed exactly, but the companionship of another person, and she spent her days visiting the orphanage, having tea with Maudie, and taking her meals with Rick and Darlene. She finally told Rick all the trouble she had been having with the ancient key he gave her, though she kept Ardeth's secret to herself, and she knew he was doing his best to find Beni as well. She supposed that if Rick couldn't find him, nobody could, and she was starting to truly believe that Beni had disappeared from Cairo altogether. He didn't even bother to say goodbye.

At least she finally knew she wasn't having a baby after all. Her bleeding started three days ago, two weeks later than it normally began, and she was relieved. She was glad she wouldn't have to worry about having a child who might never know its father, or—if it did meet Beni—wish that it didn't. She was glad she wouldn't have to worry about how on earth she would break the news to her family and the nuns at St. Elizabeth's, or what she would do with the baby once it arrived.

All she had to worry about was Ardeth and Dr. Bey pestering her about Beni, wanting to know if she had seen him or heard of his whereabouts. If Beni had indeed sold the key, then his buyer was keeping quiet about it, and Lillian wished the Med-Jai would stop bothering her over a problem she didn't believe in. There was obviously no curse.

She entered her dark, empty apartment in the early evening, having just returned from dinner with Rick and Darlene, and poured herself a drink. She heard something smash against the other side of the wall and figured the couple next door was fighting again, likely because the husband had stumbled home drunk yet again with another woman's lipstick on his shirt collar. She really ought to get out of this place. Rick had visited a couple of times in the last few days and never remarked upon the squalor of her home, though she was aching to know what he truly thought of her dwindling respectability. They never talked about each other's personal lives; only about the faraway past, which seemed so wonderful now that it was gone and could never return, and about the optimistic future. She had spent a full hour under Rick and Darlene's roof, assuring Darlene that _really,_ her cooking was delightful, and losing herself in the alluring promise of carefree pleasures that loomed on the horizon. She wanted to enjoy herself—oh, how she longed to be _happy—_and couldn't help but allow herself to get caught up in Darlene's never-ending enthusiasm.

"Mrs. M is planning her masquerade party," Darlene had announced over dinner. Her words came out in a rush, as if she had been dying to say them all evening. "She has one every year, you know. I've never been to one, of course, since I haven't known her for very long, but can you imagine how wild it will be? She's bound to invite the most shocking sort of people!"

Rick immediately declared that he wouldn't wear a costume for the world, but Lillian thought about it all through dinner. The last party she attended was five years ago, when Cairo's aristocrats hosted a "welcome home" ball for all the soldiers who returned from the war. Her hair had been terribly long back then, her skirts considerably more modest, and she spent the whole evening foolishly wishing that Rick would dance with her just once, only for a minute or two, but he never did. Rick had always hated to dance.

She had been invited to other parties after that one, of course. Parties hosted by her parents and by friends of her parents, lavish affairs meant to raise money for the unfortunate, but she avoided those like the plague and gradually forgot how to dance. Then Rick decided he was restless again, just two years after he returned from that horrible war, and went off on a boat in search of adventure.

She still didn't know what he had done while he was gone. She knew he had been to France, and that he had been in the French Foreign Legion, but it was all a mystery to her. She didn't have the courage to ask him that evening, not when Darlene was so eager about the masquerade party, and let the matter rest for another night.

Lillian lit the kerosene lamp in her bedroom and idly watched the glow that would fade with time, unlike the electric lights in the hotel she had stayed in a few nights before. There were so many things that didn't last long in the slums. Food grew scarce, clothing became threadbare, health deteriorated. Even something as simple as a light was swallowed up by the darkness all too soon, and Lillian wished she had overstayed her welcome at Rick and Darlene's, just to escape this hopeless world a little longer. It was still too early to go to bed and escape to dreamland. She looked at her bookshelf with her drink in her hand, reading each blissfully familiar title to herself, but she didn't feel like reading.

She never finished reading _Julius Caesar_ to Beni.

Her bedroom curtains stood open and she pulled them closed, shutting herself off from the siren call of the night. It could call to her all it liked that evening. She wasn't going to answer. She stepped out of her dress and found a clean nightgown, even though she wouldn't be in bed for a while yet, and indulged herself in thoughts of Mrs. Maywood's masquerade party. She supposed she would like to attend, if only to find out more about Ardeth, Clarissa, and Mrs. Maywood's involvement in their affairs, and supposed it would be fun to hide her face from the world for a single evening. She deserved to have a little fun after everything that had happened in the last several days. She deserved a chance to search for the person she used to be.

She was just finishing her drink when she heard a sound coming from the front of her apartment. The sound of a key turning in the lock.

She set her glass on the dresser and cautiously made her way to the front room, hardly daring to believe that he had finally come home. The door swung open and Beni staggered in, wearing brand-new clothes that were already wrinkled and stained, as if he had been sleeping in them for a week, and headed for the nearby sofa. He was still wearing his red fez.

"Where were you?" Lillian demanded.

Beni sank wearily onto the sofa. "I was out," he replied simply. His eyes were bloodshot and he had more stubble on his face than usual, though his mustache was as thin as ever.

"I spent five days looking for you!"

"Oh, I am touched. It is so nice to know that you care."

"You can't just walk in here and pretend that nothing's happened, Beni," said Lillian. "Where have you been?"

"God, Lillian, I am exhausted," he whined, stretching himself lengthwise on the sofa. "I have been through hell."

"I seriously doubt that."

He grumbled something to himself in Hungarian and started to close his eyes, but Lillian startled him when she sat down on the edge of the sofa, pushing his legs aside to give herself some room.

"You must think I'm awfully stupid, don't you, Beni?" she said. "Did you think I wouldn't notice if you stole something from me?"

He gave her a half-hearted frown, too tired to glare properly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'd like to have it back."

"Have what back?"

"The key that you stole. I need it back."

Beni suddenly looked puzzled. "That thing is a key?"

"That's what people keep telling me, anyway," said Lillian. She eyed the collar and buttons of his wrinkled shirt, which looked like it had once been a crisp white, and noticed a shiny silver cufflink on the end of each sleeve. "You sold it, didn't you?" she asked slowly, doubtfully, hoping that she was wrong and knowing she was right.

"Of course I sold it. That is what you do with things like that."

Beni started to close his eyes again, but Lillian gave him a little nudge. "I'm not going to let you sleep until you tell me where you were."

He retaliated by giving her a kick. "If you want me to talk, then find your own seat. You are taking up all the space."

Beni was the one who was sprawled along the entire length of the sofa, but Lillian wasn't going to argue. She got up and sat in the armchair, watching Beni shift around until he was comfortable. "Well?" she said.

He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "I took a train to Alexandria. That was three days ago."

"Before or after you sold the key?"

"After. The man who bought that artifact from me—that key or whatever the hell it is—gave me a thousand dollars for it, so I got on the train."

"It doesn't sound like you've been through hell to me," said Lillian.

"Well I have. The money is all gone."

"You wasted a thousand dollars in three days?"

When he turned his head to give her a weary, frustrated look, she couldn't help but stare at a bruise that had formed under his eye. She noticed it when he came in, but now it drew her full attention. "I didn't waste it," he said.

"Then what did you do with it? Leave it in the pocket of your other new suit?"

He wasn't amused. "Like you would really care what I did with my money. I thought you were mad at me."

"I _am_ mad at you. And I'm going to continue being mad until you tell me everything." Lillian softened her voice, remembering in spite of her anger that he was exhausted, and that tired people disliked nothing more than to be pestered and pushed around. "Please, Beni. I'd really like to know."

"There is not much to tell you," he said. "When I got to Alexandria I bought some new clothes and a watch. Then I spent a lot of money on fancy meals and expensive whores. I drank a lot of expensive wine, too. That was all during the first two days."

"And what about the third day?"

He let out a mournful little sigh. "I went to this fancy nightclub run by some rich English people, where there was this big card game. The stakes were very high. I lost most of my money because the English bastards were cheating, but they got angry when I told them that. One of them hit me right here." Beni pointed to the bruise beneath his eye. "And then when I started to win back a little of the money, they said _I_ was cheating. I don't even know _how_ to cheat at cards."

"Of course not," said Lillian, unable to help smiling just a little.

Beni ignored her and continued. "It got worse after that. Somebody found out I had some opium on me, because I still had a little I was going to sell later that night. The people who run these fancy places throw a fit when you have drugs with you, so a couple of big idiots threw me into the street. They took my money and my new tie and my watch, and they wanted to take my cufflinks but it was too much trouble for them. So I spent the night on somebody's doorstep and had to spend hours trying to get rides with people who were driving to Cairo."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You didn't try stealing a car?"

He gave her an annoyed little look and turned his head again, back towards the ceiling. "It's very hard to steal cars in the daylight. There is always some asshole watching."

"So now you're here," said Lillian.

"Yes. I told you I have been through hell."

"It was your own fault."

"I did nothing wrong," Beni complained. "Those bastards at the nightclub didn't want me there, just because my accent doesn't sound like theirs."

"Well you shouldn't have spent so much money."

"Why do you keep nagging?" he whined. "I could have stayed in Alexandria. Instead I have come back to you and our little unborn Jewish child."

"There's no baby," said Lillian. "I just found out the other day."

Beni was quiet for a moment. "You're sure?"

"Yes. You're not a father, so you can stop trying to trick people into thinking you are."

"Oh God, that means you're on the rag, doesn't it?"

She looked at him lying there on her sofa, dressed in his wrinkled shirt with its missing tie, and knew she would have wept if there was a baby. Not because of the baby itself, but because no child should have to go through life calling Beni its father. "Yes, Beni," she said rather irritably. "I'm on the rag. But it doesn't matter if I am or not, since I'm not sleeping with you anyway."

"What are you going to do then? Become a nun?"

Lillian didn't bother to respond.

"Maybe I _should_ marry you," Beni added. "Then you will stop complaining about getting knocked up."

"Neither of us would be happy," said Lillian.

"Still, you might as well marry me. Nobody else will want to, once they find out where you have been and what you have done."

She looked at him in disbelief, feeling more sad than angry. Her voice was quiet. "Where did you learn to be so cruel?"

"I'm not being cruel," said Beni. "I'm only telling you the truth."

"Well you can keep the truth to yourself." She suddenly remembered the key, which had been the cause of both their troubles in the first place, and knew Ardeth would be demanding information the moment he knew Beni had returned. "Who bought the key from you?"

Beni shifted position on the sofa and removed his fez, holding it possessively in one hand. "I thought you wanted me to keep the truth to myself."

"You know that's not what I mean. Who bought it?"

"It doesn't matter. You won't get it back."

"Can't I at least have his name?"

"He calls himself a doctor," Beni grumbled, looking more tired by the second. "Dr. Chamberlain or something."

"Did he say why he wanted the key?"

"I don't know, but he says he will give me an extra thousand dollars if I take him to Hamunaptra. He wants to leave in a week or two."

So he didn't come back because of her at all. He had given somebody another false promise that would only lead to starvation in the desert, and Lillian intended to find this Dr. Chamberlain as soon as possible. Surely an educated man would know better than to put his fate into Beni's hands. She wanted to question Beni further, but she could tell that his weariness was swiftly catching up with him, and soon he would be fast asleep on the sofa. He hadn't bothered to remove his dirty shoes.

Lillian got up from her armchair and stood over Beni, unable to abandon all the old habits that had ruled her life since the night she took him home with her. "Hey," she said quietly. "You should get ready for bed."

He had closed his eyes, but he opened them half-way and peered up at her dazedly. "Why?"

"Because you can't sleep on the sofa in those dirty clothes."

"These clothes are all I have."

"You've got other ones lying around somewhere."

"They are _all_ I have," he repeated. "All I have got left from the money."

A thousand dollars had dropped into his lap and all he had to show for it was a travel-stained shirt. Lillian hadn't planned to let him sleep in her bed that night, but the sight of him collapsed on the sofa was too pathetic to bear, and she gently shook him by the shoulder. "Come on. I'll help you get changed."

"Don't touch me," he mumbled.

"At least take off those silly cufflinks—"

He suddenly swatted her away, his panic giving him a burst of energy. "They're mine," he said. "I am keeping them."

"I wasn't trying to take them from you."

"Well I want to wear them to bed."

"All right, then," said Lillian, taking a step away from him. "I guess this is good night." She turned her back on him and headed to her room, where her bed felt more lonely than ever before, and shut the door behind her.


	19. Decisions

**Author's Note: **I _kind of_ regret setting this in 1923. I originally wanted it to be a sort of prequel to the movie, but that plan backfired and now it's rapidly becoming AU. Oh well. Guess I'm gonna call this AU from now on. Also, this is already nineteen freaking chapters and I feel like it's only just started.

* * *

Decisions

Lillian had been doing a lot of thinking as she listened to Beni sip his coffee. She had been thinking all morning, ever since she got up and found Beni sprawled on her sofa, still wearing his travel-stained clothes from the night before, and she kept on thinking as she brewed the pot of coffee and poured him a cup. He hadn't thanked her, of course, but she didn't expect him to and didn't care either. It might be the last cup of coffee she ever made him.

He was infuriatingly nonchalant, sitting at her table with her favorite mug in his hand, sipping her coffee like nothing had happened. He refused to change out of his expensive clothes, even though she draped one of his other outfits on the back of the sofa for him, and his silver cufflinks sparkled obnoxiously when they caught the morning sunlight. She had never seen a more foolish, pathetic sight in her life.

"I've been wondering about something," said Lillian, watching Beni set down the mug and take a bite of his eggs.

Beni didn't bother to finish chewing his food before he spoke. "Whatever it is, I don't care." He had been irritable ever since he found out she was running low on sugar.

"Well it concerns _you_. You never told me where you slept the other night, before you headed off to Alexandria."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about a few nights ago, after we went out for drinks with Rick and Darlene," said Lillian. "Maudie said you tried to stay with her, but she turned you away, and I know you didn't sleep here. Where did you go?"

"Where the hell do you think I went? I found a cheap brothel and spent the night with a woman who spoke three languages." Beni seemed to forget about the lack of sugar in the apartment and smirked at the memory. "We had some wonderful conversations."

She had known for weeks and weeks that Beni liked to visit brothels, but it had never disgusted her as much as it did now. He could be crawling with some unpleasant disease that very moment, a disease he could easily give to _her_ if she let him into her bed, and she knew she was unbelievably lucky that she had stayed healthy for as long as she had. She was lucky she hadn't caught anything from him, lucky she hadn't gotten pregnant, but that luck could change with one moment of weakness. She watched Beni take a generous bite of toast and knew that even though he was despicable and pathetic and unattractive, there was _something_ about him that was strangely irresistible, and she might give into him if he had the nerve to touch her. She might still surrender if she was lonely enough, and it frightened her.

She didn't want a disease. She didn't want a baby. She didn't want Beni, and yet part of her still _did_ want him just a little bit, because bad habits were the hardest ones to break.

Lillian forced herself to think of Beni sneaking into some seedy little brothel, giving his dirty opium money to a woman with too much makeup and too little clothing—perhaps one of the women who gave him that opium money in the first place—and it made her sick. She took a sip from her own cup of coffee, but it tasted stale and a little too cold, and she had to push it away.

"It's bad enough that you tried to stay with Maudie," she said, forcing herself to look Beni in the face. "But couldn't you have found lodgings in a hotel like normal people do?"

"What do you mean by normal people?" said Beni. "A lot of people go to brothels. I bet your own father has gone to a brothel."

"But you visited one in Alexandria too. That's what you told me last night."

"Congratulations on your excellent memory."

He looked unbelievably sad to her, sitting there in his wrinkled shirt with his pathetic cufflinks, letting sarcasm fall from his lips with such ease. "You can never stay away from prostitutes, can you?" said Lillian. "Haven't you ever, for one moment in your life, believed in the idea of being with just one woman?"

"Where is the fun in that? And why do you care all of a sudden? You're not screwing me anymore, remember?"

"I care because I feel sorry for you. You seem to think that prostitutes can magically solve all your problems."

Beni took a sulky sip of his coffee, frowning down at his eggs. "There is nothing wrong with sleeping with whores. The first woman I ever had was a whore."

"How romantic."

"You don't have any right to judge me. You're not much better than a whore yourself."

"I slept with you because I wanted to, as you rudely pointed out the other night," said Lillian. She was quickly losing patience with him, partially because his words grated on her and partially because they had strayed so far from the topic she had in mind, and she didn't feel like being nice anymore. She had wasted far too many days being nice to Beni. "But I guess prostitutes are the only kind of women who will ever love you, aren't they? You're so awful that you have to pay somebody to love you, because nobody in her right mind would do it on her own."

"That's what my father always said," Beni grumbled. He looked panicked as soon as the words left his mouth and sat up a little straighter, his eyes darting around the kitchen as if he hoped he could find those words and sweep them under a rug somewhere.

Lillian looked at him in surprise. "I thought you didn't know who your father was."

"I don't," said Beni.

"But you said—"

"I don't have a father," he insisted.

"Who is he, Beni?" she said gently. She desperately wanted to learn where he had come from, and what kind of despicable people had brought him into the world and made him into the person he was. "I'd really like to know."

He seemed uncertain, glancing down at his eggs and then back into her face, but at last he settled down and looked at her with woeful eyes. Beni rarely missed an opportunity to make people feel sorry for him. "There's not much to tell," he said. "He was my mother's pimp. My mother never told me he was my father, but I figured it out." A wry little smirk twisted his mouth. "I've been told I get my good looks from him."

"Then why do you always say you don't know who your father is?"

"Because that man was not a real father."

"I'm sorry," Lillian murmured.

Beni wouldn't look at her anymore and drained the last of his coffee, holding the cup to his lips for the longest time until every last drop was gone. "It would have been better with more sugar," he complained.

The discussion on his father was clearly over, gone as suddenly as it arrived, and Lillian remembered why she started talking in the first place. She had been making the coffee, promising herself it would be the last pot she would ever brew for him, and she asked him about his whereabouts because she wanted to know if he had any other place he could call home. She wanted to know if he needed her at all, just a little bit.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about something," she said, ignoring his remark about the sugar.

"Oh, really?" said Beni. "I would have never guessed, when you have done nothing but talk all morning."

"I don't want to live with you anymore, Beni."

He looked at her with a confused frown on his face, as if she had spoken a different language and he was trying to decipher the words. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. I'm tired of living with you."

"So you're kicking me out. After all the good times we've shared."

"What good times? We've done nothing but argue lately."

"All couples argue."

"We're not a couple, Beni."

"Of course we are. You could have been knocked up with my baby!"

"But I'm not," she said, glaring at him across the table. "And I'd appreciate it if you took me seriously. I can't stay here with you anymore."

"Come on, Lillian," he whined. "You don't know how hard it is on those streets. I won't survive a week out there."

His pleas wouldn't work on her anymore. He might have been able to fool her a few months ago, but she knew him too well to believe that such a sneaky, conniving man was capable of starving on the streets. "You could survive an eternity out there, and you know it," she said. "But you can stop trying to act helpless. I'm not kicking you out."

He looked more baffled than ever. "But you said you don't want to live with me anymore."

"Yes, Beni." She was nervous as she said the words, nervous and frightened of her own bold decision. "I'm the one who's leaving."

Beni's expression changed. He looked thoughtfully around the kitchen as if he had never seen it before, taking in the wooden table, the stove, and the various pots and pans that hung on the wall. "You're leaving," he echoed.

"That's right," said Lillian.

"So that means the apartment will be mine."

"If you want it."

"How kind and charitable you are." Beni smirked as he scooped up his last forkful of eggs. "I will be sure to remember you every time I sleep in your bed."

"The furniture's all you're getting. You'll have to buy your own food and make your own coffee, you know."

His smug expression faltered a little, but then he swallowed down the last of his breakfast and scoffed at her. "That doesn't matter anymore. I will hire a maid. I'm getting some more money from that doctor who wants to go to Hamunaptra."

She had forgotten all about the doctor who bought the key from Beni. She wouldn't be surprised if Ardeth already knew that Beni was back in town, since he had an uncanny habit of discovering every little thing that happened in her life, and it was only a matter of time until he came knocking on her door. Though she supposed it wouldn't be her door for much longer, now that she had finally found the strength to leave. She couldn't stay in that dark neighborhood anymore, in that sad apartment with a man whose soul grew blacker by the day, and it didn't matter how much she felt sorry for Beni. Surely it was better to be lonely than keep company with a man like him.

"What was the name of that doctor again?" she asked Beni.

"Chamberlain," he said with a roll of his eyes, making the name sound comical. "_Doctor_ Chamberlain. You are not allowed to forget he's a doctor."

"You're just going to leave him in the desert, aren't you? I know what you've been doing to those poor tourists."

"This man deserves it. He's an ass."

"Nobody deserves something like that, Beni."

"This man does," he said stubbornly. "Why are you so curious about him? Are you hoping to buy back your precious little box?"

"I want to know what kind of man would spend so much money on a trip with _you_," she said.

"Oh, I'm _so_ hurt," said Beni. "Don't you have someplace to be now that you're leaving?"

He was awfully eager to get rid of her all of a sudden, now that he knew he would have the apartment all to himself. "I can't leave just yet," said Lillian. "I have to pack up my things and find a hotel." She would return to the same hotel she slept in a few nights before, the one that made her feel so liberated and relaxed, until she figured out where she wanted to go from there. It was all happening so fast, she could hardly believe she was actually leaving. She could hardly believe she hadn't done it weeks ago.

"Try not to miss me too much, my dear," said Beni, looking smug. "If you ever decide to stop being a nun, my door will be open."

"So that's it, then," said Lillian.

She didn't feel as satisfied as she thought she would. She thought she was going to feel triumphant now that she had claimed her freedom at last, but instead she felt tired. Tired and sad that no matter what she did, Beni was going to be as petty and selfish as ever.

"What do you mean, that's it?" said Beni. "Would you feel better if I gave you a kiss goodbye?"

"It wouldn't matter if you did or not. The last three months haven't meant anything to you, have they?"

"Lillian, my darling, I can't believe you would say such an outrageous thing. Our time together has meant the world to me!"

"Then why did you have to chase me away?" Lillian said quietly, trying not to stare too hard at his ridiculous shirt sleeves with their ridiculous cufflinks. "I wanted to help you so badly, and I wanted to care about you. I _would_ have cared about you if you had let me, but you're so wrapped up in yourself that there's no room for anyone else. And then you chase them away."

Beni's eyes got bigger with each uncomfortable truth. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't." Lillian got up from the table and pushed her chair in. "I'll come back for my things later."

He didn't try to stop her as she grabbed her handbag and her hat and walked out the door. He acted so full of himself, thinking he could simply hire a maid and live like a king in her apartment, but his money from Dr. Chamberlain wasn't going to last. He would squander it away, just like he squandered the money he spent in Alexandria, and sooner or later he would find out where she was staying and knock on her door, begging her to mend his clothes and cook his meals.

Her eyes started to water as she stepped outside and by the time she got to her car, the tears were rolling quietly down her cheeks, but she didn't bother to wipe them away.

It was the first and last time she would ever cry over Beni Gabor.


	20. At the Dagger's Edge

_Note:_ Lord Carnarvon was a real person who funded Howard Carter's excavation in the Valley of the Kings, which led to the famous discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb. He died on April 5, 1923 from an infected mosquito bite, which people attributed to a curse that supposedly fell upon Carter's crew when they opened the tomb.

* * *

At the Dagger's Edge

Lillian felt out of place in the richly furnished parlor. She was no stranger to riches, having seen her share of fancy parlors and made endless polite chatter with the people who owned them, but this particular room had a distinctly masculine quality that made her think of heavy oak furniture, brandy and cigars, and animal heads mounted upon the wall. The furniture was made of mahogany rather than oak and she didn't see any animal heads, but the room clearly belonged to a bachelor—or perhaps a widower—despite the obvious amount of money it had taken to furnish it. The room was dark and austere, full of sharp angles and stern leather-bound books that lined the walls in place of wallpaper, and she swore the old silver clock on the mantel was frowning at her.

She was very much aware that she was a lone woman sitting among three men.

"This is none of your affair, Terence," Dr. Chamberlain declared, sitting straight and stiff in a high-backed leather chair.

He was an older man with a monocle and a fondness for smoking a long-stemmed pipe, which he removed from his mouth before speaking. He had taken little notice of Lillian, except to look her over with plain disapproval, his eyes lingering a little too long on her bobbed hair, and it only took a few minutes to discover that he was just as dull and severe as his parlor.

Dr. Bey, who sat with Ardeth on a sofa, looked ready to grab the nearest object and hurl it through a window.

"It is _every bit_ my affair, Allen," he said. "This is no laughing matter."

Chamberlain fixed him with a stern look. "Does it look like I'm laughing?"

"That's beside the point. Where is the key?"

"I purchased that artifact with my own money. You have no right to demand it of me."

Ardeth shifted restlessly in his seat, looking uncomfortable on the stiff leather sofa. His eyes were very dark as he gazed at Chamberlain. "Name the price you paid, and we will double that amount."

"It's not for sale," Chamberlain said firmly.

"We will triple the amount."

"You can quadruple it, if you like. I still refuse your offer."

Lillian was getting bored. She sought out Dr. Bey after she left Beni and told him that Chamberlain had purchased the key a few days before. Dr. Bey was acquainted with Dr. Chamberlain, a respected Egyptologist who lived in a quiet, pristine neighborhood not far from the house where Lillian grew up, and it didn't take long to recruit Ardeth and arrange a meeting with Chamberlain in his dark, unfriendly parlor. Lillian sat quietly in her seat, listening to the three men argue over the key, and wondered why she agreed to come along. Early that morning she had been alone with Beni, telling him she wanted to live elsewhere, and now she was in a stranger's home listening to two Egyptologists and a desert man discuss a matter she didn't believe in.

"Allen, I beg you, we _must_ have the key!" said Dr. Bey. "That very key could single-handedly bring the world's destruction."

Chamberlain took a drag on his pipe, completely unfazed. "I'm afraid I don't follow you."

"_Imhotep_," Dr. Bey said impatiently. "Does that name mean anything to you?"

"I wouldn't say it _means _anything to me precisely, but I've certainly heard of the man."

"Then you've heard of the curse he will bring if he ever rises from the dead. The Book of the Dead exists, buried deep within Hamunaptra, and keeping the key carefully guarded is the only way to ensure that the Creature never wakes."

Chamberlain leaned forward a little in his seat, peering at Dr. Bey through his monocle with a sudden flicker of interest. "Are you quite certain the Book of the Dead actually exists?"

"It exists," said Ardeth.

"And you're saying that this key—which is now in my capable hands—is the key that will open this book?"

"Yes, which is why we ask that you hand us the key. If anyone happens to unlock that book and read the incantation within, the Creature will rise from the dead and doom us all."

Lillian caught Chamberlain's eye and knew he shared her skepticism. She couldn't help but wonder if Ardeth was being dramatic for the sake of being dramatic. He was desperate to regain the key, after all, and if he thought that constantly spouting doom and gloom would do the trick, then perhaps his dire warnings were only an exaggeration. There couldn't possibly be a curse brought on by reading from an ancient book. She had read the newspapers, of course, and seen the articles claiming that Lord Carnarvon—the man who helped the famous Howard Carter discover Tutankhamun's tomb—had died just a month ago due to a curse placed on the burial site, but it was all coincidence and superstition. People believed in curses because they craved excitement in their dull, ordinary lives. The Med-Jai believed in Imhotep because they had little else to believe in out there in the lonely desert.

Chamberlain sank against the back of his chair, his lip curled in a sneer. "Surely you don't expect me to believe all this nonsense about a mummy rising from the dead. No amount of money or persuasion can stop me from seeking Hamunaptra."

Dr. Bey made no effort to control his composure. "The trip isn't worth it, Allen! You have no idea what you're saying."

"I think I _do_ have an idea, Terence. You wish to deny me the one desire that has kept me in this god-forsaken country all these years. If I discover the Book of the Dead _and _the Book of Amun-Ra, my name will be remembered for generations to come."

"_If_ you make such a discovery," said Ardeth. "There is no guarantee you will be successful."

"But there _is_ a chance of success, and I intend to take it."

"You won't get very far if Beni's the one leading you," said Lillian, finally daring to speak up.

Chamberlain looked at her as if she were a child interrupting the adults at the dinner table. "And what would _you_ know about it?"

"I know Beni," she said. "He'll take your money and leave you to die in the desert."

He studied her face, truly seeing her for the first time. "You're Horace and Eliza's girl, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Does your respected family know you associate with such trash?"

Lillian felt his words like a slap in the face. "I don't think that's any business of yours, Mr. Chamberlain."

"_Doctor_," he corrected.

"Well it doesn't concern you, Dr. Chamberlain. I know Beni and you won't survive if you agree to go with him."

Chamberlain's voice became more imperious than ever. "I believe I've been on this earth long enough to know a thing or two, Miss Murray. And I'm well aware that Mr. Gabor is just as untrustworthy as he looks. There are ways of getting around that."

"So everything we have said means nothing to you," said Ardeth. "You refuse to return what is rightfully ours."

"You shouldn't have been careless enough to lose your key in the first place," Chamberlain informed him. "If a filthy little guttersnipe like Beni Gabor can stumble across it, then anybody can."

Lillian didn't know why his attitude towards Beni bothered her, but it did. He dismissed people so easily, as if they were nothing more than dirt upon the street, and Lillian hated the fact that the key was in Dr. Chamberlain's clutches. She wanted to hate Chamberlain as well, because he reminded her of how foolish she was for getting taken in by a "filthy little guttersnipe" in the first place.

But Beni had been so pitiful when she first met him. So pitiful and so alone. Lillian had been alone too, sitting by herself in a bar with nothing but a cheap drink for company, and perhaps her own loneliness was what prompted Beni to speak to her. He came creeping over to her lonely table, dressed in clothes that were practically rags, and looked at her with eyes that had seen a lifetime of starvation and misery and death. He had lost all of his money, he told her in the saddest voice she had ever heard. He was hoping a nice lady like her would be kind enough to buy him a drink.

Lillian bought him the drink. She bought him a lot of drinks after that, cooked him a lot of meals, patched up a lot of holes in his tattered clothes. He was so pitiful and so alone, and she fell for every miserable plea that fell from his lips.

Chamberlain had every right to look at her in contempt.

She avoided Chamberlain's eyes, wishing she could block out the snooty sound of his voice, and turned her gaze to Ardeth and Dr. Bey sitting upon the sofa. She expected Dr. Bey to lose his temper, perhaps treat Chamberlain to one of his infamous explosive rants, but he seemed eerily calm as he looked at Ardeth and said, "I think there's only one thing left for us to do."

Ardeth nodded. He rose from his seat, looking wild and frightening in the neat, orderly parlor, and drew a bright silver dagger from the hilt strapped to his side. He brought the edge of the blade to Chamberlain's throat, moving so swiftly that Lillian hardly knew what was happening until she heard Chamberlain's startled gasp.

"Where is the key?" Ardeth demanded quietly, his dark eyes locked on Chamberlain's frightened ones.

"It-it's in a locked drawer," Chamberlain said quickly. "In my study."

"Take me to it."

"Very well."

Ardeth marched Chamberlain from the parlor holding the tip of his dagger against Chamberlain's back as he walked behind him, and Lillian watched in stunned silence as the two of them left the room. She had met people who took superstition seriously, Beni being one of them, but she had never seen such an intense belief in ancient curses before. Ardeth's face had frightened her as he pressed his dagger against Chamberlain's throat, all human emotion gone from his eyes, and for one terrifying moment she believed he would willingly kill to get his hands on the key. She couldn't believe he was the same man who was heartbroken over his illegitimate daughter.

Dr. Bey must have sensed her uneasiness, for his voice was remarkably gentle when he spoke. "An unfortunate procedure, but a necessary one."

"Do you always frighten people into carrying out your wishes?" Lillian asked.

He sighed, looked older and more weary than she had ever seen him before. "You simply don't understand how serious this is. Nobody can possibly understand."

"Why do you believe in the curse?"

"Fear, Miss Murray," said Dr. Bey, looking at her with haunted eyes. "Fear makes me believe."

"Is the curse really that terrible?"

"The most terrible ancient curse the world has ever known. So terrible that nobody dared to use it until Imhotep committed his crimes, and nobody has dared to use it since."

Chamberlain returned to the parlor looking dazed and defeated, Ardeth trailing behind him like a particularly tall, dark shadow. The dagger had returned to its hilt and when Lillian looked closely, she saw the eight-sided box clutched tightly in Ardeth's right hand. He briefly showed it to Dr. Bey, then tucked it into his robes and resumed his seat on the sofa, as if he and Chamberlain had simply strolled out of the room for a little private chat.

"I hope you're happy," Chamberlain told Dr. Bey, regaining some of his imperious manner.

"I won't be entirely happy until you promise to avoid Hamunaptra," said Dr. Bey.

"As you wish. I'll tell Mr. Gabor I won't be requiring his services any longer."

"Then our conversation is finished," said Dr. Bey. "Thank you for your cooperation, Allen."

Chamberlain snorted and made no reply. He glared at Dr. Bey, Ardeth, and Lillian as they left his parlor one by one, making off with the artifact that was supposed to bring him fame, and Lillian was glad to get out of that stuffy house and into the sunshine. It felt like she had been trapped in that parlor for hours. Ardeth seemed to shrink as he stepped into the sun, as if the dark confines of Chamberlain's home had given him height and strength, and he looked nothing like the menacing man with the dagger who used fear to get his way. He seemed almost happy, though Lillian wondered if a man like Ardeth ever _was_ happy, and he didn't even hesitate when he got into the passenger seat of Lillian's car.

"Thank Allah we will not have to deal with that man again," he said.

"That's something we can finally agree on," said Lillian.

"Allen wasn't always quite so... so _disagreeable_," Dr. Bey said from the backseat. "They say he used to smile more often before his wife passed. She's been gone twelve years now. Allen never got over the shock, I suppose."

"I'm very sorry about that, but he doesn't need to be so condescending," said Lillian.

"Put him out of your mind," Ardeth advised her. "We have been victorious."

She found it unbelievable that they already had the key, just like that. She had expected more difficulty in locating Chamberlain, perhaps more of a struggle in dealing with the man, but it had all been so easy.

She wished forgetting Beni was just as easy.

"What are you going to do now that you have the key?" Lillian asked. She drove in the direction of the museum, where she would drop off Ardeth and Dr. Bey.

"Guard it more carefully than ever before," was Ardeth's solemn reply. "We will not lose it again."

"If you're so afraid of this curse, then why not destroy the key? Why not destroy the book, too?"

"Some things are not meant to be meddled with," said Dr. Bey. "We would be destroying valuable ancient history."

"But you wouldn't have to fear the curse any longer," Lillian pointed out. "And you wouldn't have to worry about keeping people away from Hamunaptra."

"You are not the first person who has voiced this opinion," said Ardeth. "But Dr. Bey is an Egyptologist. He wishes to preserve the past."

Lillian reached the museum and parked behind a pale yellow car that practically blocked the front entrance. She supposed she looked strange sitting there in her car, the curator in the backseat and a desert tribesman in the passenger side, and wasn't sure what to say now that the hunt for the key was over. She no longer had any reason to associate with either of these men again.

Ardeth broke the silence for her. "I will be keeping an eye on Beni Gabor for the next few days, just as a precaution. I do not wish to intrude on your privacy, but I feel that it's necessary."

"You won't have to worry about that," said Lillian. "I, um... won't be living with Beni any more."

She might have imagined it, but she thought she heard a scandalized little noise from Dr. Bey in the backseat. She supposed he didn't know she was living with Beni and didn't dare turn around to look at his face. Chamberlain's judgment was bad enough.

Ardeth's face betrayed none of his feelings. "That is good news. You do not belong with a man like that. No woman does."

"I know," said Lillian. It felt a lot more real now that somebody knew she was free. "I'll be staying in a hotel if you want to keep in touch. I can give you the address."

"I would like that."

She gave him the address and hoped he wouldn't have any need to visit her; not because she disliked him and wanted nothing more to do with him, but because she was tired of the key and Hamunaptra and the mysterious Imhotep. She would be perfectly happy if she never heard anything about Hamunaptra again. Ardeth and Dr. Bey took their leave of her, disappearing into the cool depths of the museum, and Lillian felt an unexpected emptiness settle over her once they were gone. She was relieved that the key was restored to its rightful place, but she couldn't help thinking of Beni.

Beni with his wrinkled fancy shirt and his cufflinks that he clung to so tightly, desperate for the smallest reminder of what it was like to have money and power. He wouldn't be getting his thousand dollars now that Chamberlain had given up on Hamunaptra. He wouldn't be getting that maid he talked about, or eating in fine restaurants and parading about the city in a nice suit. He would have nothing once again and she couldn't help but feel that it was partially her fault, just a little bit.

She didn't want to think about Beni. More than anything, she wanted to see Rick's face and hear the reassuring sound of his voice, and she drove away from the museum with a slightly lighter heart.

Rick would make everything better. He always did.


	21. Along For the Ride

Along For the Ride

"Do you think I should bob my hair?" Darlene asked. "I've always wanted to bob my hair, but I could never get up the nerve to do it."

She was seated at the piano in the apartment she shared with Rick, her graceful hands resting upon the keys as she looked imploringly at Rick and Lillian. The fate of her whole world rested upon that single question.

Rick shrugged and helped himself to the pitcher of lemonade that sat nearby. "You want to bob your hair, then go for it."

"Well of course I _want_ to," said Darlene. "But do you think it'll spoil my looks? I'm so afraid I'll look like a stranger." She took hold of her long, light brown braid and held it up to the light that streamed through the window. "But it's _such_ a pain to take care of. I spend about a hundred years brushing and brushing it out all the time."

"And you shed worse than a cat," Rick joked.

"Rick, this is serious," said Darlene. "I really need to know if I ought to cut it or not. Lillian, what made _you_ decide to bob your hair?"

Lillian was surprised at how relaxed she felt. A day or two ago, or even a few hours ago, she would have found the whole conversation absurd, but she felt perfectly at ease in Darlene's apartment, seated beside Rick with a glass of lemonade in her hand. The Med-Jai had their key back. She was leaving Beni. A pleasant melody drifted through her mind, the leftover remnants from the song Darlene played on her piano just minutes before, and she didn't even mind Darlene staring at her bobbed hair.

"I just cut mine last year," said Lillian. "It was an unbearably hot day and I got tired of having all that hair, so I found the nearest beauty parlor and had it chopped off."

"Just like that?" said Darlene. "Weren't you nervous at all?"

"A little. But I felt so light and cool afterwards."

"I know _I_ would be nervous. But surely it wouldn't be so bad, having short hair in this awful heat. Rick, does it _ever_ quit being hot around here?"

"Yeah," said Rick. "When the sun goes down."

"Well I know _that_," said Darlene. "But is it terribly hot all year long?"

Rick exchanged a look with Lillian. Darlene had only been in Egypt for six months, but Rick and Lillian had both spent years in the dusty, sweltering capital city, and Rick's reply was matter-of-fact. "Pretty much."

"There's really no escape," Lillian added.

"I suppose it would be nice to get rid of this mane," Darlene said thoughtfully, tugging at the end of her braid. "Did you know that Mrs. M has had her hair bobbed for over ten years now? Ten _years_! Imagine how shocking it must have been when she first got it cut! But of course actresses can get away with all kinds of shocking things, and Mrs. M doesn't give a hoot about anyone's opinion anyway. But neither of you truly answered my question." She tossed her braid over her shoulder and sat up straighter on the piano bench, her blue eyes pale and serious. "Do you think I would look awful if I bobbed my hair? Or would it improve my looks?"

She directed the question at both of them, but she was looking at Rick. "I don't know what to tell you, Darlene," said Rick. "I don't know anything about hair or... or fashion."

"This isn't about fashion, Rick. It's about _me_. What would you think of me if I cut my hair?"

"I think you'd look nice. You always look nice."

"Anyone can look nice."

"Good, then," said Rick. "You'd look good."

"Oh, what's the use?" Darlene said with a sigh. "Men don't know anything."

"Hey, you're the one who asked," Rick pointed out.

"And I'm sorry I did. You probably wouldn't even notice if I came home with my hair chopped off. I could dye it as blue as the sky and you would still be sitting on the sofa, fiddling around with those guns of yours."

"Darlene—" said Rick, but Darlene swiftly interrupted him.

"I think I _will_ bob my hair," she said. "I could do with a change. You'll come with me to the beauty parlor, won't you, Lillian? I couldn't possibly go alone."

Lillian was afraid to refuse her. "All right."

"Wonderful! But I've got to go change my clothes first. This dress won't do at all." Darlene dashed off to her bedroom, her braid whipping behind her as she disappeared.

Rick looked at Lillian. "What was _that _about?" he demanded.

"You could have been a little more encouraging," said Lillian. "She wanted to know if you would still find her pretty if she changed her hair."

"Women," Rick muttered, shaking his head.

"Beni's back in town," said Lillian, taking advantage of Darlene's absence. She had been longing to tell Rick since she walked in the door, but she didn't want to mention Beni in front of Darlene. "He came back last night."

"Where the hell was he?"

"Alexandria. It's a long story."

Rick snorted and poured himself more lemonade. "Sounds like it. What about that key he took from you?"

"That's also a long story. The Med-Jai got it back this morning." Lillian looked down at her lap, trying to summon back the carefree feeling that had suddenly floated away from her. "Also, I'm not going to live with Beni anymore. It's over."

She couldn't see Rick's reaction, though his voice sounded as steady as ever. "Congratulations," he said. "How's Beni taking it?"

"Rather well, actually. I'm letting him have the apartment."

"I'm sure your landlord will be thrilled."

"Go easy on Beni, will you, Rick? I mean, if you ever happen to see him around."

"Depends on if he deserves it," said Rick.

"He probably doesn't, but don't be too hard on him. Beni has nothing." Lillian may have given Beni her apartment, but she was certain he would lose it within a week or two, and she didn't want to imagine how much stolen food he would eat and how many stolen cigarettes he would smoke. "I'm not having a baby," she added. "And now I'm moving out. He just lost a good deal of money recently and he thinks he's going to get more, but he isn't."

"I get it," said Rick. "Beni's got nothing. But it's his own fault."

Lillian sighed and wondered when Darlene would return, then decided it didn't matter. She needed to get the words off her chest, even if Rick didn't understand. "I wish he wasn't so unloveable," she said. "I really do. Sometimes I can't stand him, but then there are other times when he just seems so tragic, and I want to love him but I know I can't. I don't think anybody can."

"You can't save everyone, Lil," said Rick. "Especially Beni."

"How did you meet him, Rick? What was he doing before he came here?"

But Rick didn't get a chance to answer Lillian's questions. Darlene returned to the living room with her hair hanging loose around her shoulders, wearing a different dress with matching shoes. "Well, I'm ready," she announced.

Rick didn't budge from his seat on the sofa. "Have fun."

Darlene hesitated, then took a few hurried steps over to Rick and kissed him on the cheek. "Goodbye."

Nobody said another word as Lillian followed Darlene out of the apartment, and the silence continued as the two of them got into Lillian's car. Lillian wasn't sure what she was doing or why she was doing it, but she headed for the beauty parlor and realized she had never been alone with Darlene before. She had spoken with her plenty of times since their first meeting, but Rick was always there to keep her from feeling like a stranger. Rick was always there to fill in the awkwardness, even if he wasn't much of a conversationalist, and now she was all alone with Darlene in her car after a very long, eventful morning. She felt unusually shy.

Darlene looked out the window of the passenger side for a minute or two, absently running her fingers through her hair, then suddenly opened her mouth as if she had never shut it in the first place.

"Do you think Rick would ever want to marry me?" she asked.

Lillian was so startled by the question that all she could manage was, "What?"

"I know it's a silly question, but I've been dying to ask somebody. Mrs. M is no help at all; she's always telling me that marriage is for fools and that I'm better off devoting my life to my piano and a dozen lapdogs, but _you've _known Rick for a long time."

"I don't know if Rick would ever get married at all," said Lillian.

"That's the trouble," Darlene said with a sigh. "He's so wonderful and charming, and yet he's such a... such a _bachelor_. But sometimes I think it would be nice if we were married. We could live together without having to pretend we're related, for one thing. And sometimes I'm so afraid he'll just wander off one day."

"He has a habit of doing that."

"It wouldn't be hard for him to find a new place to live. Women are always looking at him, you know. And I'm sure he tries not to, but I've seen him look back."

Lillian had seen the exact same thing for years. Women liked Rick and Rick liked women, and that was simply the way of things. "Maybe he'll settle down someday," she said, though she seriously doubted that Rick—eternally restless and in love with adventure—would ever truly stop wandering.

"Maybe," Darlene echoed hopefully. "You know, I was awfully worried about _you_ for a while."

"Me?" said Lillian.

"Oh, yes. Rick told me how the two of you have been friends for ages and I thought there must be _something_ between you two, but you can't imagine how glad I am that you really _are_ just friends. I was so relieved when I found out about your Jewish man."

It took Lillian a moment to realize Darlene was talking about Beni. "He's not my Jewish man."

"Isn't he, though? What about the baby?"

"There's no baby. And Beni and I aren't together anymore."

"Well that's a shame," said Darlene. "He said the two of you were _so_ much in love."

Lillian nearly lost control of the wheel. "When did he say that?"

"The other night, when we all had drinks together and you and Rick went off to talk privately. Your Jewish man—Beni, I mean—was telling me he would just die without you. That you were the only woman he would ever want for the rest of his life and that he couldn't wait to marry you and raise a bunch of little Jewish children."

"He had the nerve to say that?" said Lillian. It was exactly the sort of nonsense Beni would feed to a gullible woman like Darlene.

"It was the sweetest thing I'd ever heard. You didn't break his heart, did you, Lillian? I couldn't bear it if you broke that man's heart."

"Beni doesn't have a heart," said Lillian. "Don't believe everything he tells you."

"But surely you _do_ love him," said Darlene. "He seems positively wild about you. I wish Rick—" She abruptly stopped talking and noticed that Lillian was pulling up in front of the beauty parlor. "We're here already?"

"Do you still want to go through with it?" Lillian asked.

"I'll never know what it's like to have a bob if I don't try it just once. Oh, but do you have any cigarettes? I could really use a cigarette right now."

Lillian could use one as well and produced two cigarettes from her handbag, then opened up the doors of her car to let the smoke out. She found that she couldn't be angry with Darlene, since she knew Beni loved to gain people's sympathy with the most absurd lies, and she supposed she couldn't blame Darlene for believing him. Darlene didn't know Beni. She didn't know anything about Beni's disappearance or his wild spree in Alexandria or the hopeless conversation he had with Lillian that morning, and Lillian couldn't be angry. She could only sit there in her car with a cigarette held to her lips, wondering how Beni could pretend to love so easily when he truly loved no one but himself.

"Would you like to hear a secret?" said Darlene. She seemed incapable of sitting in silence, even when she was smoking.

"What is it?" asked Lillian.

"I started smoking cigarettes when I was fourteen years old." Darlene's voice was quiet and solemn, lending a dark tone to her harmless words. "Isn't it terrible of me?"

"You could have done far worse," said Lillian.

"I don't know what possessed me to do it. I saw my father's cigarettes lying on the kitchen table and nobody was around, so I swiped a couple and took them out to the yard. After that I didn't want to stop." She blew a trail of smoke out the open door and watched it drift away towards the sun. "I suppose bobbing my hair isn't so bad, compared to smoking at only fourteen. Nearly everyone bobs their hair." She put out her cigarette and turned to Lillian with a nervous smile on her lips. "Let's go."

Lillian began to relax again as she entered the beauty parlor with Darlene and watched the hairdresser get to work. After dealing with people like Beni and Dr. Chamberlain, it felt refreshingly normal to witness something as commonplace as a haircut. Darlene was very quiet throughout the whole ordeal, keeping her eyes cast downward as she listened to the scissors snipping away, and when it was over she felt the back of her neck and let out a little gasp.

"I feel so odd with all that hair gone!" she exclaimed. "But what do you think, Lillian? Am I absolutely frightful?"

"You look lovely," said Lillian, and it was the truth. The bob suited the shape of her face and added an air of sophistication that had previously been lacking.

"My landlady is going to drop dead when she sees me," said Darlene. "Mrs. Berlinski is so old-fashioned. But oh, what is Rick going to think? I can't wait to see the look on his face."

Darlene couldn't stop touching her hair on the way to the car and declared that the Egyptian heat really _was_ more bearable with a bob. By the time she got into the passenger's seat, she had thanked Lillian at least five times for accompanying her to the beauty parlor, and once they were on the road she kept up her chattering as if making up for her bout of silence during the haircut.

"Mrs. M is throwing her party in just four days," Darlene announced. "I've never been to a masquerade party before, but Mrs. M is going to let me play the piano in front of her guests. She's providing everyone with masks, too, since she has _so_ many. She's been collecting costumes for over twenty years, I think, and has an entire big room filled with the most outlandish clothes. She says she throws a masquerade party every year because she likes to know what people will do when they think nobody can see them."

Lillian had forgotten all about Mrs. Maywood's upcoming party. They had discussed it over dinner at Rick and Darlene's just the night before, the same night that Beni came stumbling home from his Alexandria trip, and Lillian liked the idea of a houseful of guests mingling together in obscurity, trying to decide who was who. She was in desperate need of frivolous amusement.

"You really must go, Lillian," Darlene added. "Mrs. M will be devastated if you don't. She asked about you this morning, you know, and said you can't possibly miss her party."

Lillian hadn't seen Mrs. Maywood since the day she caught Beni purchasing opium, though she thought about her often. She wanted to know why she despised Ardeth so much, and what possessed her to blackmail him over his bastard daughter. "I'll be there," she promised Darlene. "Are you going with Rick?"

"More like I'm _dragging_ Rick there," said Darlene. "He doesn't like parties unless they're in some seedy little bar, but I think he'll enjoy himself. Nobody will even know he's there."

When they returned to Darlene's apartment, Lillian intended to drop off Darlene without going inside the building, but Darlene insisted she come upstairs for just a minute. Mrs. Berlinski, the short, elderly woman who ran the apartment, caught sight of them and looked just as shocked as Darlene predicted, and Lillian could have sworn she saw the old woman crossing herself as they went up the stairs. Rick's reaction was much less dramatic. He stared at Darlene for a long moment, silently taking in the sight of her new hair, then told her she looked great and pulled her into a kiss. Lillian stood by and tried not to feel like an outsider.

The sight of Rick kissing Darlene should have bothered her, but it didn't. She felt the usual discomfort that normally occurred when witnessing a private moment, and she wanted to be elsewhere, but she didn't long for Rick to look at her the way he looked at Darlene and put his lips on hers. She didn't long for anything.

She politely refused to join them for dinner that night and slipped away as soon as she was able, retreating back to the blissful solitude of her car.


	22. The Stranger

The Stranger

The first thing Lillian noticed when she drove down her street was the yellow car parked in front of Maudie's building. She thought she had seen it in front of the museum that morning, but she didn't have time to dwell on it when the second thing she noticed was the figure in black standing in an alleyway. A glint of silver flashing in the fading sunlight told her it was Baqir, the Med-Jai with a hook for a hand. She turned her head away from him and hoped he didn't see her; she was driving a Model T after all, rather than the flashy Cadillac she left behind at her parents' house, and Model T's were a dime a dozen.

But not many people in her neighborhood drove cars. The yellow car in front of Maudie's building caught her eye because she rarely saw automobiles parked on the street, and she knew most of her neighbors couldn't afford vehicles of their own. She wondered if Baqir knew that as well. She wondered why his presence bothered her so much. He couldn't possibly hurt her now that Ardeth had the key.

She had no choice but to get out of her car and walk to her building, carrying the removable steering wheel in her hand so that nobody could steal the car. She knew he was behind her, though she didn't turn around and look. She knew he was there, but if she walked just a little faster she could probably—

"You," he said quietly.

Lillian turned around and found Baqir standing behind her, his face as stern and sinister as ever. She felt a little bolder with the steering wheel clutched in her hand. "If you touch me, I'll scream for help," she said.

Baqir didn't budge. "I have been told you do not live here anymore."

"I don't. I'm coming to pack up my things."

"Ardeth trusts you." His tone suggested that Ardeth had clearly gone mad. "Yet you associate with the man who lives in this building." He used his hook to gesture at Lillian's apartment.

"Why are you here?" she demanded. "Don't you have better things to do than frighten me all the time?"

"I have been instructed to keep watch on the man who lives here. I am merely performing my duty."

"Well keep your duty to yourself. I'm going inside."

"I will not stop you," said Baqir. "I'm sure a whore like you is accustomed to Beni Gabor bringing strange men into your home."

She wasn't sure what startled her the most: Baqir's claim that she was a whore, or his mention of strange men. "What are you talking about?"

His lips twisted in a cruel smirk. "You will see for yourself when you go up the stairs."

"I don't know what you may have heard about me, but I'm not a whore."

"You have been living sinfully with a man for months." He took a step closer, his hook pointed directly at her face. "That makes you a whore. You are not worthy of associating with my people."

She couldn't take her eyes off the hook, remembering the awful story Maudie told her the other day. The story about Mary Jane Kelly, the London prostitute who was killed and horribly mutilated by the legendary Jack the Ripper, and she didn't want to imagine what grotesque damage Baqir's hook could do. She found the strength to move and backed away from Baqir, fleeing into her building and hurrying up the stairs. He didn't follow her, though his words echoed in her head.

_A whore like you._

But she wasn't a whore. She wasn't like the destitute women who bought opium from Beni and let him into their beds because they didn't have a choice. Lillian _had_ a choice.

And yet she chose to live with Beni for three long months, letting him do what he pleased and have whatever he wanted.

_That makes you a whore._

She smelled cigarette smoke the moment she entered her apartment. Enough smoke to come from two cigarettes, rather than one, and she found Beni and a man she didn't recognize lounging on her furniture. She expected to see Beni there, but the other man was a surprise, with his dark skin and his eye patch that covered one eye. Beni sat bolt upright the moment he saw Lillian, his half-smoked cigarette falling from his lips.

"Oh, my darling, you are back already!" he said. "I have missed you terribly."

"Who's he?" Lillian demanded, gesturing at the black man who sat slumped on her favorite chair.

"That's just Izzy," said Beni. "He is nobody important."

The name sounded familiar, but Lillian couldn't place it. "Well what's he doing in my apartment?"

"It is not your apartment anymore, remember?" said Beni, looking at her with a smug little grin. "Surely I am allowed to have guests in my own home."

Izzy's only visible eye had been closed as he sat there smoking, but he finally opened it and caught sight of Lillian. "Blimey, she _is_ real," he said in an English accent. "Beni, you devil, I thought you were pulling my leg!"

"I told you I was living with a woman," said Beni, his voice sounding whinier than usual. "But now she has decided I'm not good enough to live with, after _all_ I have done for her."

"I'm collecting my things," said Lillian.

"You see?" Beni said tragically, looking at Izzy with sad eyes. "I would have gladly started a family with this woman, and now she is leaving me."

"Do you always lie to people about you and me?" said Lillian. "About how much you _love _me and how _happy_ we are together?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Beni. "Why would a God-fearing Catholic like myself tell a lie about something like that?"

"I thought you were Jewish."

"I can be both."

"No, you can't," Izzy spoke up. "It's either one or the other, Beni."

"I am a Catholic Jew," said Beni.

Izzy snorted. "There's no such thing as a Catholic Jew!"

"I speak both Latin and Hebrew."

"Well good for you, mate. I speak English and a little Arabic, but that don't make me anything other than black!"

"Oh, shut up," said Beni. "Try and see what happens when you get into trouble and only have one god to pray to."

"I keep telling you it doesn't work that way. Ask anybody!" Izzy pulled off his eye patch, revealing two perfectly normal eyes, and turned to look at Lillian. "Ask your woman over there. _She'll _tell you it doesn't work that way!"

Despite his loud, excited manners, Izzy didn't look well. His face was sweating and his hand shook as he raised his cigarette to his lips. Lillian didn't know why he was there, but she didn't like Beni bringing strangers to the apartment before she even got a chance to move out. Deciding to ignore Izzy, she got out her traveling trunks so she could pack up the books, pictures, and clothes she had brought from her parents' home, and silently got to work. Beni and Izzy resumed their conversation, which she could easily hear in the cramped apartment, and she couldn't help but eavesdrop as she gathered up her possessions and carefully packed them away.

"So what about that money?" Izzy asked.

"What money?" said Beni.

"The money I came to see you about! Why else would I bother coming up to your little rathole? You think I enjoy your oh-so-pleasant company?"

"I don't have the money."

"Of course you do. That's what you told me a few days ago, when you were bragging about that rich doctor you found."

Beni's voice became weary, his words part of a long-practiced plea for sympathy. "Izzy, just look at me. My shirt has a hole in it. Do I look like a man who has money to spare?"

"What do you mean, look at you?" Izzy demanded. "Take a good bloody look at _me_, man! I'm shaking like a leaf!"

"It is not my fault you are an addict."

"Come on, Beni, I know you've got money. I just need enough to get me through the week."

"I already told you, I don't have it. Just give Franny another airplane."

Lillian set down her volume of Shakespeare, too caught up in the conversation to finish packing. "Franny" could only mean Mrs. Maywood, and she suddenly remembered the story Darlene told about Izzy smoking opium on Mrs. Maywood's couch.

"I can't give her another airplane," said Izzy. "What the hell would she want with another one? Anyway, Franny says she's fresh out of hop and doesn't know when she's getting more, so I've gotta buy from somebody else."

"I can't help you, my friend," said Beni. "You will have to go without."

"You don't understand, Beni. I'm a wreck without my euphoria. That's what it's all about, you know. _Euphoria._ Do you have any idea what euphoria feels like?"

"Yes. That's how I felt when I screwed your mother."

"I'm being serious here! And I know you're getting money from that doctor. You told me yourself that you're taking him into the desert and he's giving you half the money upfront. My memory ain't as bad as you think."

"Yes, but we don't leave for another few days. The doctor just told me half an hour ago."

That was impossible. Dr. Chamberlain promised not to seek Hamunaptra just a few hours before, and Lillian saw no reason for him to take back his word when the threat of Ardeth's violence hung over his head. Beni had to be lying.

"Then tell him to pay you a few days early," said Izzy.

"It is no use negotiating with a man like that. The bastard already thinks it is a crime to be stuck on a boat with me for three days."

"I don't blame him one bit."

"He is not paying me half in advance, anyway," said Beni. "He told me he changed his mind and will not pay me until he sees Hamunaptra with his own eyes, so you will have to beg from somebody else."

"I'll have to beg, eh? That's awfully rich, coming from you. And who am I supposed to beg from, Beni? Nobody else has got a thousand dollars waiting for them."

"I don't know what you want from me, Izzy," Beni whined. "Isn't it enough that I let you come into my home and sit on my beautiful furniture? I have even let you smoke my precious cigarettes."

"They're _my_ cigarettes, you nitwit. All you did was provide the matches to light 'em."

"Well I let you use my precious matches. I don't know what else I can do for you."

Lillian stopped listening after that. Beni and Izzy continued squabbling, going around and around in circles without end, and it didn't take Lillian long to pack all the belongings she wanted to take. She didn't bring a lot to begin with. She felt odd looking at the empty spaces where her things used to be; odd and a little sad, but not sad enough to unpack her trunks and change her mind. She couldn't become homesick when her apartment was never a home in the first place. Even before she met Beni and took him home with her, her apartment felt like a temporary escape, though she was never quite sure how long she would stay or where she would go when she needed to escape once more. She supposed she would miss it just a little, when she woke up in a strange bed in a strange hotel, but she would miss it the same way she missed her long hair when she got it bobbed for the first time. It was gone, but she was better off without it.

Her trunks weren't terribly heavy and she managed to move them out into the hall one by one, since Beni wouldn't bother to help her. She got lucky when one of her neighbors who lived down the hall happened to open his door and see her. She didn't know the man's name and vaguely remembered greeting him a few times, but he was willing to help her take her trunks downstairs and load them into her car, and she was sorry she had never asked his name. It was too late to learn it, since she doubted she would see him again. A glance at the nearby alley told her that Baqir was still lurking on her street, though she only caught a glimpse of the black sleeve of his robes, and she hurried back inside so she could fetch her handbag and the steering wheel to her car. She certainly wouldn't miss being watched by the Med-Jai.

Beni had his eyes on her as she stepped back into the apartment. Izzy's hand shook worse than ever as he puffed on a new cigarette, but Beni was no longer smoking. He kept his eyes on Lillian and got up from his seat so quietly and so suddenly that she didn't know he was behind her until she heard his footsteps on the floorboards, one step behind hers. She pretended not to hear him and entered the bedroom for the last time, where only the furniture and the white, smoke-stained curtains remained. She tried to feel something as she looked at the blank walls and the neat, tidy bed, but all she felt was the dull ache of regret as she remembered all the weeks and months she had wasted within those walls.

"So you are really leaving," Beni said behind her.

She still couldn't look at him. "Yes, Beni."

"How do I know you won't change your mind and come back to kick me out?"

"Believe me, Beni, I don't want to come back. The apartment's yours for as long as you want it."

She couldn't see his face, though she imagined he was smirking. "Good."

"I'm leaving now," said Lillian, slowly turning around to face him. He looked sadder than ever, despite the smug satisfaction in his face. His satisfaction seemed as empty as the rest of him. "Goodbye, Beni."

"Don't I get a goodbye kiss before you leave?" he asked. "After _all_ we have been through together?"

Though his grin was obnoxious and his tone was sarcastic, Lillian saw something else in his words. Beni used her and didn't care about her, but she was probably the only woman who could tolerate him for so many weeks with nothing in return, and surely he knew it. Maybe deep down, somewhere beneath all the selfishness and greed, he _did_ want a family and a normal home where he wasn't an outcast, forever scrounging on the fringes of society and making the world feel sorry for him. Maybe he didn't want to be so heartless, but he was too blind to see it, and Lillian didn't hesitate when she stepped towards Beni and pulled him in close.

_A whore like you_, Baqir called her, but Lillian didn't care as she put her lips on Beni's and kissed him one last time.

Maybe Baqir was right.


	23. Haunted

Haunted

On the night of Mrs. Maywood's party, Lillian stood in her hotel room looking at herself in the full-length mirror that stood beside the dressing screen. She wore a black dress, the same one she wore on the night Rick came to her apartment for the first time, and she wondered if it was good enough for Mrs. Maywood's extravagant affair. She had never been to a masked party before. She supposed her reflection looked nice enough, though her hair looked hopelessly red and wouldn't lie entirely flat, no matter how hard she tried to tame it, and she didn't spend much time making up her face. It wouldn't matter when her face would be covered that evening.

She looked around at her quiet hotel room and couldn't believe she had been staying there for four days. Four days of luxurious baths, gourmet meals, and respectable people. Four days without Beni and his constant whining. She hadn't seen him since the day she moved out, though her last kiss with him lingered in her mind and haunted her when she tried to sleep at night. She shouldn't have kissed him. She wasn't _supposed_ to kiss him when everything had ended between them, but she wanted to do something reckless after listening to Baqir call her a whore. She wanted to make a foolish attempt at feeling something after she watched Rick kiss Darlene and felt nothing at all.

A couple of times she thought about driving into her old neighborhood, just to see if Beni was getting into as much trouble as she expected, but she forced herself to resist that temptation. The last thing she needed was a run-in with Beni.

Lillian slipped on a necklace and rolled her stockings, then put on a pair of black heels to match the dress. Her outfit was simple, but she wasn't trying to impress anyone that night. It was time she pleased herself for a change. She had just fetched the little beaded purse she saved for special occasions when somebody knocked on the door, and she stood frozen in place. It could be a maid wanting to know if she needed anything. It could be a stranger who got the wrong room number. It could be Rick, though she couldn't imagine why Rick would come to her apartment when he was taking Darlene to the party. Once upon a time she would have longed for Rick to take _her_ to the party instead, but when she thought of entering Mrs. Maywood's home on Rick's arm, she only felt the uncomfortable sense of nothingness that bothered her the other day. He was still the same Rick. Their friendship hadn't changed. But her girlish dreams had slipped too far away from her and Lillian hoped it wasn't Rick at the door. She didn't know what she would do if it was Rick.

She opened the door and gasped a little when she saw the tall, dark man who stood in the richly carpeted hall. "Ardeth," she said. "What are you doing here?"

His appearance still startled her every time she encountered him. He gazed down at Lillian, looking more outlandish than ever in his black robes, and took in the sight of her evening dress and the purse in her hand.

"I'm afraid I have arrived at a bad time."

"I don't need to leave just yet," said Lillian. "Come in."

She didn't particularly want a gloomy desert man in her hotel room that evening, but she didn't want to be rude. He had probably gone through a lot of trouble navigating through the large, elaborate hotel. Ardeth's face was as grim as always, his dark eyebrows knit together in a frown as he entered the room, and Lillian wished he would smile more often, just to prove he was really human beneath all the doom and gloom.

"I would offer you a drink," she said, "but I know you would refuse it."

"I never properly thanked you for helping my people recover the key," said Ardeth, getting right to the point.

Lillian stared at him. "Thank me?" she echoed. "I'm the one who refused to give you the key and then lost it afterwards."

"But you have redeemed yourself, and I thank you for that. Your association with Beni Gabor led us to Dr. Chamberlain."

"How _is_ Beni? Has he done anything... suspicious?"

"Baqir has not reported any suspicious behavior. He has followed Mr. Gabor's acquaintances and heard no mention of Hamunaptra."

Lillian didn't envy the people being followed by Baqir, though she couldn't help wondering just how many acquaintances Beni had besides Izzy. She knew so little about him. She supposed she always would.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," she told Ardeth. "About Hamunaptra and everything."

"My people always make the effort to reward those who assist us," said Ardeth. "Please accept this humble gift for all of your help." He withdraw a small amulet from his robes, an amulet that looked like a strangely shaped eye. Lillian recognized it from her brother Douglas' books on ancient Egypt, but she couldn't remember what it was called.

"What is it?" she asked.

"The Eye of Horus," Ardeth explained. "It will give you protection."

"I really don't deserve it."

"I would like you to have it," Ardeth insisted. "Because of you, my people and I have regained our most important possession."

She didn't do anything at all, really. Dr. Bey arranged the meeting with Chamberlain and Ardeth threatened the man into giving up the key. Beni was the one who sold the key to Chamberlain in the first place. But Ardeth looked so earnest and she couldn't refuse him, even though she was nervous about accepting another gift from the desert. She wouldn't be involved with Ardeth's affairs at all if Rick hadn't given her the key on a whim. She wouldn't know anything about the Med-Jai, or the curse that supposedly hung over Hamunaptra, or the sad story about Ardeth and his bastard daughter. She would probably still be living with Beni, putting up with his miserable company because she had nothing else to live for and didn't care about finding something better.

Lillian managed a nervous smile and took the amulet from Ardeth. The eye stared up at her—a falcon's eye that reminded her of statues she had seen in the museum—and she felt reassured when she held it in her hand. She tucked it into her beaded purse and glanced at the clock on the wall. She still had fifteen minutes until Mrs. Maywood's party began.

Ardeth noticed her glance and looked grimmer than ever. "I am afraid I have kept you from something important."

"Something quite frivolous, actually," said Lillian. "Mrs. Maywood is having a masquerade party tonight."

"Of course," said Ardeth. He managed to sound amused in a bitter way. "I will never understand you Americans and your love of absurd entertainments."

"It _does_ sound a little absurd," Lillian admitted. "But sometimes we all need a little absurdity."

"I wish I shared your opinion."

She always thought that desert life was simple, but Ardeth looked and sounded like a man with a thousand weights upon his shoulders. She had never met anyone so serious. She had never met anyone who seemed to _enjoy_ being so serious.

"Would... would you like to come with me?" she asked. "As an escort of sorts?"

Ardeth looked stunned. "You would like me to accompany you to this party."

"If you don't mind. I haven't got anyone to go with, and I think we could both use some loosening up."

"Francine will not be happy."

"She really dislikes you, doesn't she?"

"She believes that I wronged her in the past," said Ardeth. "Francine does not forgive easily when her pride has been hurt."

"I'm sorry," said Lillian. "I shouldn't have asked you to come."

"Perhaps you are right, and that I am in need of this loosening up, as you call it. Perhaps I will attend this frivolous party."

"Even if Mrs. Maywood throws you out?"

"It will be worth it if Clarissa is there. I would like to set eyes on her face once more."

From the way Ardeth spoke, it sounded as if he hadn't seen Clarissa in ages. "Don't you see her occasionally?" asked Lillian. "You told me you're allowed to see your daughter sometimes."

"I do see Janey, but Clarissa has not spoken to me in months. She no longer wishes to see me."

"But why?"

"Stealing the key was not punishment enough, apparently," said Ardeth. "I am in anguish every day, knowing how she resents me for failing to marry her and acknowledge our daughter. If I could set eyes on her just once, it would ease a little of the pain in my heart."

She didn't want to feel sorry for him. He had brought his problems on himself and she was tired of feeling sorry for unsavory men, but pity continued to be her biggest weakness. "Come on, then," she said, patting her hair into place once last time. "We'll take my car."

Ardeth didn't protest, though he still had no love for the automobile, and he remained silent as Lillian locked up her room and took him down the stairs, since she doubted he would appreciate an elevator ride. She didn't take his arm and he didn't offer it to her, but that was perfectly all right. Nothing was complicated with Ardeth, even if neither of them fully understood the other, and Lillian liked the idea of accompanying him to the party because she knew she would never feel anything for this proud, serious desert man.

Perhaps she was never meant for romance at all. Her short-lived engagement to Andrew Moore had ended in disaster. She couldn't give the despicable Harold Sheffield what he wanted. She had her chance at a romance with Rick, but cowardice made her throw it away. And Beni... She wished she hadn't failed with Beni. She wished she had loved him just a little, and that she had cared about him enough to help him become a little less selfish, but she hadn't helped him at all. He was still out there in her old neighborhood, living only for himself, and she was sorry she couldn't be the family he desperately needed. She was sorry he had to go through life so alone and so selfish, never knowing how it felt to be wanted or liked.

She wished she didn't feel so sad every time she thought of him.

_You will be back_, he had murmured wickedly in her ear after she kissed him for the last time. He spoke into her ear with his funny little whine, all the while trying to touch her in places where he wasn't allowed to touch her anymore. He tried to turn their kiss into more than a kiss, because he was used to taking what he wanted whenever he wanted it, and Lillian was one step away from raising her skirt like the whore Baqir thought she was.

But then he murmured those taunting words—_You will be back_—and Lillian found the strength to slap his hands away. She didn't want to come back. She _didn't_, and it was wrong of him to torment her like that. She fled from the apartment as fast as she could, only half-aware that her dress had gotten crooked and her stockings were mussed, and she didn't look back because Beni was wrong. She would never come back.

"Something troubles you," Ardeth said as they reached her car.

Her face must have given away her thoughts and she struggled to compose herself. "I'm fine."

Ardeth continued to watch her solemnly, his dark eyes a little less intimidating than before. "You are free from that terrible man," he said softly. "You should be filled with joy rather than grief."

Lillian opened her car and slid into the driver's seat, longing for the distraction of music and people and a little too much liquor. "I'm a mess, Ardeth," she said wearily. "A terrible mess."

He got in beside her, a grim figure in black robes. "Then perhaps we understand each other at last."


	24. Red and White

Red and White

Mrs. Maywood's two-story house blazed with light, each window glowing in the dark Egyptian evening. Only one window remained dim; a window on the first floor, but the rest of the house offered a bright welcome to the guests who spilled out of cabs and automobiles and made their eager way to the front door. Lillian walked with Ardeth past the tall obelisk that stood in the yard, aware that they were both wearing black to such a bright, cheerful affair. Back at the hotel she thought her black dress looked glamorous, but now it looked somber as she walked beside Ardeth, and she was afraid people would stare at her terribly. Most women didn't attend parties in the company of desert tribesmen with tattoos on their faces.

"Well fancy seein' _you_ here, Lillian."

Lillian was startled to hear her name. She whirled around to face the woman who had just stepped out of a yellow car—a woman she didn't recognize at first, since she was wearing a modest dress and had pin-curled her short brown hair—but she knew that English accent. She knew those wicked hazel eyes and that poor, overworked hand with the little finger missing. Maudie Tucker looked radiant that evening, a far cry from the slum prostitute who entertained strangers in her home. She sauntered over to Lillian, shooting curious looks at Ardeth as she drew near.

"My, what a dreary pair you make!" she exclaimed. "You look like yer headin' to a funeral, you do."

"I didn't plan on wearing the same color as him," said Lillian, embarrassed. "You, um, remember Ardeth, don't you?"

Maudie had briefly met him days ago, when Ardeth and Lillian were searching Cairo for Beni, and she winked at Lillian. "Hard to forget a man like that."

Ardeth nodded his head stiffly in Maudie's direction, discomfort written all over his face. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance again."

"Oh, and he's a polite one too! O' course, I've got a polite fellow of me own." Maudie gestured over her shoulder at a man fussing with the yellow car. He wore a nice tan suit and appeared to be grumbling to himself.

"Who is that man?" Lillian asked. She had seen the car twice before, once in front of the museum and once in front of Maudie's building.

"That's Jonny," said Maudie. "Jonathan, really, but he's a real sweetheart and lets me call him Jonny. One o' them well-bred types who thinks it's a lark to go slummin', but there ain't no harm in him."

"I've seen his car around."

"Yes, well, a couple o' his mates were tellin' tales about me, it seems, and ol' Jonny had to come and see me for himself. I nearly had meself a heart attack when he invited me to this fine little party. Never thought you'd see _me_ all dolled up and traipsin' off to a place like this, eh?"

"Maudie, there you are!"

Jonathan, the owner of the yellow car, approached their group in an impatient huff, tugging at his shirt collar like a man in need of air. "It'll be a miracle if that blasted car can get us home," he complained. He noticed Ardeth, who stood nearby silently frowning, and his eyes widened nervously. "Oh. I see you've, ah, made a new friend."

"This here's Ardeth and Lillian, luv," said Maudie, hooking her arm through Jonathan's. "But let's move the chitchat indoors, shall we? It's gettin' awful nippy out here."

It _was_ growing cold now that the sun had disappeared. The four of them walked up to the house, Jonathan and Ardeth uncomfortably silent the whole way, and Lillian listened as Maudie told her how she acquired her dress. It was unfashionably long for a party, but not long enough to be considered old-fashioned, and covered Maudie's arms and throat. Lillian didn't think she had ever seen her with so little skin revealed.

"Bloody awful, ain't it?" said Maudie, tugging at the sensible skirt. "Belongs to Jonny's sister. He thought it'd be a real laugh if we dressed me up proper-like, so we snuck into his home and he pinched this sorry old rag from his sister's wardrobe. The poor bird don't even know we've got it."

"And she won't miss it either, I assure you," said Jonathan, who was walking as far from Ardeth as possible. "Evy's happily shut away at some stuffy function at the museum, rubbing elbows with all the archeology bigwigs. Not a drop of liquor in sight, no doubt."

"I envy your sister," Ardeth muttered.

He looked increasingly unhappy as they drew closer to the front door, but he held his head high and walked with a purpose, willing to cope with his discomfort for a single glimpse of the woman who caused his anguish. He jerked open the front door and Lillian followed him into the gold room, where masked individuals drank from cocktail glasses and danced to a small orchestra that played against one of the golden walls. It wasn't a particularly large party, since Mrs. Maywood's home wasn't big enough to host an actual ball, but there were enough people to create the type of wild excitement Lillian needed that night. Somebody slipped a mask into her hand—a lovely black mask with a mass of silver feathers sprouting from the top—and Lillian put it over her face so that everything but her mouth and eyes were obscured. She felt absolutely wonderful.

"Ain't it grand?" said Maudie, leaning in close to Lillian. Her mask was as gold as the decor in the room, studded with bright red gems. "Here I am in this prim and proper frock with a mask on me face, and nobody here'll know I earn a livin' on me back."

Maudie was right. Nobody needed to know that Lillian came from a respectable family and spent three months giving herself to Beni Gabor. Or that Ardeth had a child out of wedlock. Or that Jonathan gave one of his sister's dresses to a prostitute. Nobody needed to know anything and Lillian drifted closer to Ardeth, listening to the orchestra play some old Italian tune that made her want to dance for the first time in years. She soon lost track of Maudie and Jonathan, who melted into the masked crowd, but Ardeth stuck out among the partygoers. She couldn't possibly lose sight of those outlandish black robes.

"Do you think you see Clarissa anywhere?" she asked Ardeth.

She couldn't see his face, but he was probably frowning. "I don't know."

"What will you do if you find her?"

"Ask for her forgiveness, though I do not deserve it."

Lillian looked longingly at the bar, where masked bartenders poured the most tempting liquors into long-stemmed glasses. "Do you mind if I get a drink?"

"Do not let me keep you from enjoying yourself," said Ardeth. "I know I am not the most ideal companion at a place like this."

"Surely it can't hurt if you have just one drink."

"I do not wish to disobey Allah after all I have done to displease him already," he replied solemnly. "Not even for one drink."

Lillian left his side and ordered herself a cocktail, though she found herself looking into the crowd so she could pick out his tell-tale form. She wasn't the only one who stared at him, but Ardeth didn't seem to mind that he was out of place with his gloomy appearance and lack of high spirits. He slowly paced the room, trying his best to avoid the dancing couples that whirled about on the floor, and looked carefully at every woman he passed. Lillian turned back to her drink and observed the people at the bar area, hoping for a sight of Mrs. Maywood's bright platinum hair. So far she had seen no sign of the party's hostess.

"Oh, Rick, he's actually _here_!" a smoky voice exclaimed at the other end of the bar. "I can't even believe it!"

"Who's here?" the voice that responded was unmistakably Rick.

"The colored man I've been telling you about. The one who gave Mrs. M her airplane! You'll go positively wild when you meet him, Rick. He talks like an Englishman. I mean a _real_ Englishman, with the accent and everything, and he uses the most darling slang words."

"Sounds unbelievable, all right," Rick said dryly.

He looked almost as uncomfortable as Ardeth, dressed in a regular shirt and suspenders with a plain mask over his face. Darlene looked lovely with her newly bobbed hair, clinging to Rick's arm with one hand while the other held a cocktail, and Lillian approached them until she was close enough to gently nudge Rick.

"Do I know you?" she said.

He stared down at her for a moment, trying to see beyond the mask and the feathers that hid her features. "Lil?"

She lifted up her mask just long enough to show him her face. Darlene let out a little gasp.

"Oh, Lillian, you made it!" she cried. "Isn't this the most marvelous thing you've ever seen? I feel like a different person tonight."

Lillian felt like a different person as well. She had been so upset in the car, thinking of Beni and the terrible hold his memory had on her, but none of that mattered anymore. She had a drink in her hand and a mask on her face, her oldest and dearest friend standing by her side.

Rick looked past her and noticed Ardeth, who had wandered closer to the bar area with his arms crossed stiffly over his chest, still searching for the woman he had come to see.

"That who I think it is?" said Rick.

"He's not here to spy on you, if that's what you're worried about," said Lillian.

"Who?" Darlene demanded.

"What's he doing here, then?" asked Rick, ignoring Darlene. "I thought those people got their key back."

"They did," said Lillian.

"Who are you talking about?" said Darlene. She followed Rick's gaze and her mouth dropped open. "That strange man over there? The one dressed all in black?"

"He's nobody important," said Lillian.

"Looks awful important to me. In fact, he looks _just_ like the man who came to give Mrs. M some money one time. Remember that story I told? About the desert man who's getting blackmailed by Mrs. M? That man over there looks just like him!"

"Better hurry and get his autograph, then," said Rick.

Darlene let go of his arm. "You never take me seriously, do you?"

"I take you seriously," said Rick.

"You don't, though. Every time I say anything, you try to be funny."

"What am I supposed to say? You act like you've been trapped under a rock your whole life."

Darlene splashed her cocktail in Rick's face, soaking his deep blue mask, and stormed away from the bar.

Rick took off his mask and held it in his hand, letting it drip onto the floor. "_Now_ what did I say?"

"Do you really have to ask?" said Lillian.

"No. Guess not."

The two of them stood there in silence for a moment, watching the alcohol drip from Rick's mask. Something about seeing Rick's face shattered the wonderful illusion that hung over the party, and Lillian quickly downed the rest of her drink. She suddenly needed it.

"Have you seen Mrs. Maywood?" she asked.

"Yeah." Rick pointed towards the staircase. "She's right over there."

The woman who descended the stairs was wearing a mask, but Lillian would have known her anywhere. Mrs. Maywood wore a long red gown, her bright hair covered with an elaborate Egyptian headdress, and her red mask had ribbons and rosettes streaming down from either side. The orchestra immediately began playing a slower, more elegant tune, while masked partygoers moved aside to clear a path for their hostess. Mrs. Maywood didn't speak, but she didn't need to breathe a word; she still had the stage presence that must have spellbound thousands during her theater days, and Lillian tried to imagine what it must have been like to see her upon an actual stage.

"She's stunning," Lillian remarked.

"She's nuts," said Rick.

"I need to go talk to her about something. Is it all right if I—"

"Go ahead," said Rick, cutting her off. "I'm gonna have another drink."

She watched him standing there with his mask in his hand, looking so sensible and ordinary among the frivolous splendor. "I'm sorry about Darlene."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "She'll be fine."

Lillian didn't want to leave him, but curiosity made her walk across the gold room until the long red train of Mrs. Maywood's gown was some distance in front of her. She didn't see Ardeth, but she thought she spotted Maudie having a cigarette with a pair of strangers, and she found Darlene talking animatedly with a dark man who had to be Izzy. Her spat with Rick was apparently forgotten. Mrs. Maywood stood still while a masked man lit her cigarette for her, giving Lillian a chance to approach her, and Lillian removed her mask before drawing close to the stately woman in red.

"Hello, Mrs. Maywood," she greeted.

Mrs. Maywood looked at her through the eye holes of her mask, an elegant cigarette holder clasped between her fingers. "Lillian, sweetie, haven't I told you to call me Franny? Formalities are such silly things, especially at a gathering like this. But where's your mask? It simply won't do to attend a masked party without a mask, you know."

"It's right here." Lillian slipped her mask on, hiding herself with black fabric and silver feathers once more.

"Ah, that's better. That one came from a production of _Much Ado About Nothing_, back in 1909, I believe. Did Darlene ever tell you that I played Beatrice more than thirty times?"

"No."

"She wouldn't, of course. Darlene's quite hopeless when it comes to the theater, I'm afraid." Mrs. Maywood took a drag on her cigarette, putting Lillian in mind of a dragon with her red mask and cloud of smoke. "She's playing the piano shortly, you know. I find there's nothing quite as invigorating as hearing a piano played on an evening like this, when the moon is full and the house is filled with interesting people. It makes you feel like you're going to be youthful forever."

"Franny, there's something I'd like to ask you," said Lillian.

"You know you're free to ask me anything. There are very few things in this world that can shock a woman like me." She raised her cigarette to her lips again, but didn't take a drag. "Oh, dear," she groaned. "I wasn't expecting _him_ to show up."

Lillian realized that Mrs. Maywood had seen Ardeth at last. He stood near a pale golden sofa, where three women sat squeezed together laughing hysterically at something a man had said. He appeared deaf to the laughter, his masked face turned towards Mrs. Maywood, and Lillian knew he had spotted her as well. His hands were clenched into fists.

"Are you going to throw him out?" asked Lillian.

"I _ought_ to," said Mrs. Maywood. "That man can steal the joy from a room the moment he enters it."

"It doesn't look as if he's hurting anything."

"Not yet, anyway." Mrs. Maywood finally brought her cigarette to her lips and let out a dissatisfied stream of smoke. "You see, sweetie, it's a bit of a problem that Ardeth has shown his unsightly face, even if it _is _covered with a mask. My sister Clarissa is here."

"I thought she rarely left her house."

"This is one of the only times she ventures out of that nunnery she calls a home. She feels safer behind a mask, I suppose, as if her sins can just magically disappear the moment she covers her face. Foolish, if you ask me, but Clarissa was always a fool. She _did_ take up with that awful, tattooed savage, after all."

Lillian looked at the array of people spread across the room, longing to meet the woman who had been bold enough to steal from the Med-Jai. "Which one is she?" she asked.

"We'll have to be discreet," Mrs. Maywood murmured. "It would be a terrible bit of bad luck if Ardeth saw us gesturing at her."

Ardeth stood in the same spot, too far away to overhear them, and seemed content to stare at Mrs. Maywood. It unnerved Lillian a little.

"You see the woman sitting near the orchestra?" said Mrs. Maywood. "In the white dress and matching boa?"

Lillian gazed across the room until she spotted the woman in the white dress, a white feather boa draped around her neck. She looked like a swan as she sat there in a golden chair, pale feathers sprouting from a simple white mask.

"I told her she mustn't wear white, but she insisted upon it," said Mrs. Maywood. "Terribly ironic, really, since there isn't a single thing that's virginal about Clarissa. She only thinks she's pure because she won't bob her hair and doesn't smoke."

"I'd like to meet her," said Lillian, unable to tear her eyes from the snowy woman in the golden chair. "Do you think you could introduce us?"

Mrs. Maywood glanced at Ardeth, then turned back to Lillian with a smile on her crimson lips. "Yes, sweetie," she said. "I believe that can be arranged."


	25. The Truth

The Truth

"So you know the whole story." Clarissa's soft voice sounded meek compared to her sister's theatrical tone.

"Yes," said Lillian. "I know the whole story."

"And is it really true?" said Clarissa, her voice going even softer. "Ardeth is right here in this house?"

"He's been looking for you ever since he arrived."

"Oh, my." Clarissa set down her cup of tea before she could spill it and leaned back in her red chair, looking almost as pale as her dress. "I suppose I can't avoid him forever."

She looked nothing like her half-sister. That was the first thing Lillian noticed after Clarissa removed her mask and revealed her face for the first time. Her dark hair had been pulled into a knot at the back of her head and she hardly wore any cosmetics at all; a sharp contrast to the black kohl and bright lipstick her sister always wore. Mrs. Maywood whisked them both out of the gold room fifteen minutes ago, taking them to the nearby red room with remarkable speed, and Lillian doubted Ardeth got a chance to see Clarissa, or had time to identify her if he did.

The last fifteen minutes had been an overwhelming whirl of introductions and explanations, in which Mrs. Maywood told a stunned Clarissa that Lillian knew about Ardeth and Janey, and that she had gotten mixed up in the Med-Jai's business with the key. The first several minutes were awkward and terrible, with Lillian trying to apologize for prying into Clarissa's affairs, while Clarissa was bewildered that a stranger had learned her secret, but then Mrs. Maywood drifted back to the party and Clarissa ordered a pot of tea from the servants, and the tension in the room began to evaporate.

"He really wants to see you," said Lillian, stirring a little more sugar into her tea. "He says he wants to ask for your forgiveness."

"I'm the one who needs to be forgiven," Clarissa said with a mournful sigh. "I can't possibly see him."

"Not even for a moment?"

"It's more complicated than you can imagine. I don't deserve Ardeth's forgiveness."

"That's exactly what Ardeth said about himself."

Clarissa looked at Lillian for a long moment, her pale, serious face drawn into a slight frown, and her voice was a little sharper when she spoke. "Why exactly are you so concerned with Ardeth and I? Surely there are more interesting people you can play matchmaker with."

Lillian didn't know why she cared so much about Ardeth and Clarissa and their sad, broken affair. She only knew that she felt sorry for Ardeth and wanted him to smile, since he had so little joy in his life, and she was tired of all the trouble that came with relationships.

"I've been through a lot of disappointments," she said, struggling for an explanation. "I'd like to see somebody have a happy ending for once."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you again, but Ardeth and I won't have a happy ending," said Clarissa. Her voice had grown soft once more. "I can't see him because I don't want him to know I've fallen out of love with him."

That was one of the last things Lillian expected her to say. Her surprise must have shown on her face because Clarissa added, "I suppose you thought I've been pining for him all this time, wishing he would abandon his tribe and marry me."

"Ardeth might have given that impression."

"I _did_ wish he would marry me at one time, and I wanted him so badly that I lost my temper and stole that key from the Med-Jai. But then the months passed and something started to change whenever I looked at him. I didn't feel anything. I searched in vain for the man who had captivated me before Janey was born, but he was gone, and I saw only his faults instead. I found myself wondering why I thought I loved him in the first place."

Lillian felt an uncomfortable flush that had nothing to do with the hot tea sitting in front of her. She wondered if Andrew Moore, the man who once claimed he couldn't live without her, saw Lillian the same way Clarissa saw Ardeth. Maybe Harold's terrible accusations were all he needed to cut ties with her, and that the doubt had been in his mind before Harold's lies reached his ears.

_I don't know who you are anymore_, Andrew told her on the night he broke their engagement. And maybe he didn't. Maybe he no longer needed her and found the perfect excuse to escape her forever.

"Why _did_ you believe you loved Ardeth?" Lillian asked, forcing Andrew's serious face and prim English accent out of her mind.

Clarissa looked at Lillian in wide-eyed silence for a moment, collecting her thoughts as she took a sip of tea. "You already know a good deal about my personal life," she said, her words sounding like a continuous sigh. "I might as well tell you the rest, though there isn't much to tell. Did Franny tell you I was married for six years?"

"Yes."

"Those were the six longest years of my life, each one longer and more boring than the last. My husband barely noticed me anymore. I barely noticed _him_. I'm sure you can imagine why I was drawn to a man like Ardeth, who was different and exotic and excited me in ways that Robert had failed to do in months. I wanted Ardeth and I wanted the baby and I wanted to be happy, but in the end all I got was the baby and a divorce that's left me free to do absolutely nothing. All for a man I don't even love anymore."

"If you don't love Ardeth, then why don't you tell him?" said Lillian. "Why let him suffer like that?"

"I'm a coward," Clarissa said sadly. "I should have packed up and left Cairo ages ago, but I'm afraid of what will happen if I do. Anyway, I couldn't bear to take Janey away from her father. Ardeth adores her."

"He deserves to know the truth," Lillian insisted. "You're letting him believe in an illusion."

"I can't possibly tell him. He has a hard enough time already, bearing the burden of a bastard child he can't acknowledge. The truth would only depress him."

"He's already depressed. He said you haven't spoken to him in months."

"Please," Clarissa pleaded in her quiet way. "Don't ask me to do this. I'd rather let things continue as they are."

If Lillian had let things continue as they were, she would still be living in a miserable neighborhood with an equally miserable man, but Lillian wasn't Clarissa. She had no right to meddle in something that didn't concern her.

"If that's what you want," she told Clarissa.

"It is," said Clarissa. She finished her tea and looked at the dark red walls with distaste. "This room is an eyesore, isn't it? Would you mind terribly if I made my escape and got some air? I feel like these walls are going to suffocate me any moment."

"Could I ask you one last question?" asked Lillian, reluctant for her to leave when she had so many interesting answers.

Clarissa grabbed her white mask and set it in her lap, ready to slip it back on and hide herself from the world once more. "Just one question."

"Why does your sister hate Ardeth so much?"

Something close to a smile crossed Clarissa's face. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"I've been wondering about it for ages now."

"It's so ridiculous, I'm not sure I can tell you, but I suppose it's not a whole lot more ridiculous than everything else you've heard."

"Well now you simply _have_ to tell me," said Lillian.

The almost-smile returned to Clarissa's face. "I do, don't I? I don't know if anyone ever told you, but Franny met Ardeth long before I did. Naturally Franny—who's had more lovers than anyone could possibly count—was determined to add a desert tribesman to her long list of men. Ardeth refused her. So Franny made a fool of herself and pursued him until she finally admitted defeat. Only she didn't _really_ admit defeat, because that isn't Franny's way, and she's held a grudge against Ardeth ever since."

Mrs. Maywood's pride must have truly suffered once she learned that her much younger half-sister had slept with the man who rejected her. Lillian had a lot to think about as Clarissa put on her mask and left the room, looking like a lovely ghost as she quietly slipped away in her white dress. Lillian remained in the red room and poured herself more tea, even though she would rather have another cocktail, and dug in her little beaded purse for a pack of cigarettes. She couldn't believe she had survived the whole evening without a smoke. She couldn't believe she had finally met Clarissa and found the missing pieces to the puzzle that began the moment she acquired the key and learned about the Med-Jai. The whole thing saddened her, now that she had the entire picture, and she didn't feel like going downstairs where people were drinking and dancing and enjoying themselves. She didn't want to put on a smile for Rick, Darlene, and Maudie. She didn't want to face Ardeth, knowing that Clarissa no longer loved him.

"I am grieved to hear that your desert friend is in so much trouble."

Lillian jumped in her seat. She had to be imagining things. She couldn't possibly have heard _his_ voice, not when she and Clarissa had been the only ones in the room that evening.

But the voice was real. A wide sofa sat across the room and Beni crept out from behind it, a smug grin plastered on his scrawny face. He looked the same as he did the last time she saw him, though his clothes were a little more threadbare and his face had acquired more stubble, and he clutched a mask in one hand. She should have known Beni would show up to Mrs. Maywood's masquerade, where he had the perfect chance to hide his face and mingle among people without being judged by his looks.

"How long have you been there?" Lillian demanded.

Beni's grin became wider. "Long enough."

"You've been hiding back there this entire time?"

"I was looking for the room where Franny keeps all the drugs," Beni informed her. "But the door was locked. So I came in here looking for something to pick the lock with, but then I heard footsteps and hid behind that sofa. It looks like I ended up with something more valuable than drugs."

She didn't like the satisfied look on his face. "What do you mean?"

"Poor Ardeth Bay," Beni said with mock sincerity. "What a shame that the perfect leader of the Med-Jai has fathered a bastard child. I'm sure this would greatly interest his tribe."

"You can't tell anyone, Beni."

"How touching. I didn't know you cared so much about him."

"Ardeth doesn't mean anything to me," said Lillian. "Keeping his secret is the right thing to do."

"And we both know how much you just _love_ to do the right thing," said Beni.

She looked at his shirt sleeves and noticed he was no longer wearing the cufflinks he bought in Alexandria. Perhaps he sold them off at last. "What could you possibly gain by telling the Med-Jai about Ardeth?" she asked.

"I don't have to gain anything."

"Of course you do. You won't do anything without a price."

"I don't like Ardeth Bay. That is reason enough."

"You don't like _anyone_," Lillian pointed out.

"I am hurt that you would say that," Beni said sorrowfully. He drew closer to her chair, clutching his mask in both hands like it was his only possession in the world, and looked at her with sad eyes. "I'm leaving Cairo, you know. There is nothing left for me in this city."

"Did you run out of prostitutes to sell opium to?"

He started to frown, then caught himself in time and regained his miserable, woebegone expression. "I'm leaving," he said, more sadly than before. "I'm going overseas to a strange new city where the women are not as kind as you. The lonely days ahead will be much easier to bear if I have something to remember you by."

"If you find me some scissors, I'll cut off a lock of my hair."

"Oh, no," said Beni. "Something more meaningful than that."

"I'll give you one of my stockings," said Lillian, though she knew she couldn't keep up the facetious responses all night. She knew perfectly well what Beni wanted.

"Something much more meaningful than that, my darling. Have you forgotten that we lived together like man and wife for three months?"

"I'm not giving you anything, Beni," said Lillian.

"Then your poor desert friend's terrible sin must be uncovered," said Beni, his voice convincingly tragic. "It is such a shame that such a fine man must fall."

Lillian stared at him, seeing the wickedness that lurked behind his mask of sorrow. Her heart was pounding in her chest. "You can't be serious."

Beni smirked. "You were right all along. I won't do anything without a price."


	26. With Nothing Left

With Nothing Left

"I don't believe you," said Lillian.

She sat there in her red chair, still holding the pack of cigarettes she planned to smoke before Beni made his unexpected appearance, and tried to convince herself that their conversation was all a terrible joke. The idea of sleeping with Beni to prevent him from spilling Ardeth's secret was absurd. The idea of sleeping with him at all was absurd.

"What do you mean, you don't believe me?" said Beni.

"You're not going to go out of your way to visit the Med-Jai just so you can slander their leader's name. Even _you're_ not that petty."

Beni looked as smug as ever. "How can you possibly know what I would or wouldn't do? I swear I will go to the Med-Jai and tell them everything."

"But why?" said Lillian. "Why is it so important that you ruin somebody's life?"

"That is none of your business. Now if you will excuse me, I am headed out to the desert."

Lillian didn't know what to do. Beni could be bluffing in an attempt to manipulate her, but she couldn't take the risk of letting him go. She had no weapon to control him with, no threat to hold over his head. Ardeth wasn't an innocent man, but he wasn't a terrible one either, and she couldn't bear to see him ruined because of her.

"Wait," said Lillian.

Beni stopped in his tracks on his way to the door, looking over his shoulder with the most infuriating smile on his face. "Yes?"

"What do you want from me?"

"Whatever you are willing to give. Which is hopefully everything."

"Do you really miss me that much, Beni? You're willing to use blackmail as an excuse to touch me again?"

Beni turned around so that he completely faced her, his lip curled into a sneer. "That is ridiculous. Of course I don't miss you."

"You've been miserable since I left, haven't you? Nobody to cook or clean for you. Nobody to listen to your complaints. Nobody to share the bed with."

"I don't need _you_ for any of those things," Beni retorted.

"But I was the only one who was willing to do them. I was the only one who put up with you and now you've got me right where you want me, don't you?" Lillian shoved the cigarettes back into her purse and stood up, staring boldly into Beni's eyes. He looked uncomfortable. "Admit it, Beni. You need me."

"I don't need anyone." His voice came out whinier than usual.

"I bet you don't even care about telling Ardeth's secret. You're just looking for a sneaky way to get into bed with me because you can't find anyone else."

"Shut up," said Beni.

Lillian didn't know where the words were coming from, but it felt marvelous to say them. She wanted to frustrate Beni the way he constantly frustrated her when they were living together. She wanted to throw her pity to the ground and smash it into a thousand pieces. For the last four days his memory had taunted her, making her feel so upset because she was afraid she might still want him, but now that he was back she remembered why she left him in the first place. When she looked at Beni she didn't see the pitiful street rat who had gained her sympathy again and again. She only saw a despicable man who didn't care about anyone but himself, and she felt no desire for him.

"You must really be desperate if you're trying to get under my skirt again," she said. "There really, truly isn't a single woman at this party who will have you? Even while you're wearing a mask?"

"I told you to shut up," said Beni.

But Lillian couldn't stop. She hated his determination to ruin Ardeth, who didn't deserve to have his life destroyed, and she hated his desire to possess her once more. She had never been so disgusted by him. "You must be really arrogant to think I would let you have me," she continued.

"Oh, I'm arrogant, am I?"

"You are. Because I don't want you, Beni. Nobody wants you."

He struck her across the face, making her cry out from the sudden pain. "I don't want you either," Beni spat.

He actually hit her.

Lillian couldn't believe he hit her.

For three months he had insulted her and made countless demands of her, but he had never, ever smacked her and she felt sick as she touched the tender side of her face where his hand had been. "So there's no deal," she said quietly. All of her fire had gone out the moment he struck her.

He took a step back and looked at her with wide eyes, until his sudden flash of guilt or surprise, or whatever it was, soon vanished and his usual sneer took its place. "I'm going to the Med-Jai," he said stubbornly. "You have nothing I want that could possibly stop me."

"Not even money?"

A sarcastic little chuckle escaped him. "It would have to be a lot of money."

"You know I've got money, Beni."

"Show it to me."

Lillian's face felt sore and she longed to give Beni a good kick where it really hurt, but it wouldn't do her any good to annoy him further. She had to help Ardeth and Clarissa and their innocent daughter—who would surely get caught in the whole mess if her parents' secret got out—even if it meant giving Beni something he didn't deserve. It was better than giving him herself, which he deserved even less. She was lucky she always carried her money with her, since she was always too nervous to leave it in her old apartment, and she held onto the habit after she moved into the hotel. Wishing she could shake off the cold feeling of Beni's eyes upon her, she opened her beaded purse and pulled out a generous amount of money.

"Will this satisfy you?" she said, glaring at him.

"I want everything you've got," he said.

"This _is_ everything I've got," she lied.

"Then I will take it. It is the only thing of yours worth taking."

"Is it really? Then why didn't you ask for money at the very beginning?"

He looked as if he wanted to smack her again, but he kept his hands at his sides. "I wanted to see how far you would go for an obnoxious desert man," he replied. "Not very far, apparently."

"I never said I wouldn't do it. You're the one who changed your mind and hit me instead."

His irritated whine grated on her ears. "Lillian, just let me have the money already."

"You have to promise to keep Ardeth's secret," said Lillian.

"All right, all right. I promise."

"I mean it, Beni. You can't tell _anyone_."

"I promise not to tell _anyone_," he said, pronouncing his words with care. "Ardeth Bay's shameful secret will not pass these humble lips."

He held out his hand with an expectant gleam in his eyes, waiting for her to give him the money, but Lillian hated the thought of reaching towards him. She couldn't forget that Beni had hit her. He hit her and caused her harm; the kind of harm that she could still feel in the spot where he touched her, and if he hurt her once he could surely hurt her again.

Lillian took the money and tossed it onto the floor at Beni's feet. "There. I hope I don't see you again." Her voice was breaking, but she didn't cry. She _wouldn't_ cry.

"No need to worry about that, my dear," said Beni, smirking as he scooped up his money. "I leave the city tonight. Your generous donation will take me quite far."

"Good riddance."

Beni slid his mask over his face, finished with her at last. "Have fun trying to save all the orphans and waifs," he said. "I wish you the best of luck from the bottom of my heart."

Lillian let him have the last word, though his sarcasm stung almost as badly as the bruise on her face, and she sank back into her chair once he was gone. It was truly over. She slipped her own mask back on, covering the marks of Beni's treachery, and reached into her purse so she could have a smoke at last. Her hand bumped against the amulet Ardeth gave her and she took it out for a quick look, tracing a finger over the delicately carved Eye of Horus. It would give her protection, Ardeth had said, and maybe it _did_ protect her in a way. She didn't have to sleep with Beni. She didn't lose her dignity within those sinful red walls.

She supposed her friends in the gold room were wondering where she had gone, but she could always claim they weren't looking hard enough among the crowd of mask wearers. She would return to the party when she was ready, but for the time being she would sit alone and smoke her cigarette and try not to cry over the man who had taken her money and disappeared into the night. She didn't want to think about Beni. She was finished with thinking about Beni.

The minutes slipped away and she put out the remaining stub of her cigarette, weary of sitting in her red chair in that eyesore of a room, where so much had happened in such a short space of time. Glad that her mask covered the mark on her face, Lillian ventured out into the hall and crept her way to the gold room, where the orchestra played a lively tune and the liquor flowed freely among the guests. She heard voices she recognized, the same two voices that attracted her notice earlier, and she felt very far away as she watched Rick and Darlene chatting comfortably with a pair of strangers, Darlene's bobbed hair wreathed in a cloud of cigarette smoke. She supposed Darlene played the piano for the guests earlier, while Lillian was talking privately with Clarissa, and that she must have forgiven Rick and apologized for throwing her drink in his face. Lillian couldn't stand to watch them a moment longer and turned away.

She was halfway to the bar when she realized Ardeth's black-robed form was missing from the room, and she checked every dark shape as she walked, trying to spot him among the guests.

"Easy there, darling."

Lillian had bumped right into a man in her carelessness, coming dangerously close to knocking his half-empty glass from his hand, and hastily backed away with a murmured apology on her lips.

"I'm sorry. I was just on my way to the bar..."

"What a splendid coincidence." The man's carefree English accent and tan colored suit were familiar. "So was I." He peered at her through the holes in his mask, studying her with the same curiosity that Lillian felt. "I say, did we meet earlier? Hard to forget that black dress on a night like this."

"I'm Lillian," she said, lifting her mask to reveal the good side of her face. "Maudie's friend."

"Ah, yes. That's right. Where did your charming fellow in the funeral garb run off to?"

"I've been wondering that myself," said Lillian. "Where's Maudie?"

"Oh, you know. Gone off to powder her nose and all that. Some clumsy wanker—pardon my language—managed to spill an entire dish of ice cream on her dress. My sister's dress, really. I imagine she's having a devil of a time scrubbing it all out."

Lillian didn't know the first thing about Maudie's friend Jonathan, but she felt more relaxed as she listened to him talk. He wasn't quite a stranger and he didn't know the first thing about _her_ either, which was exactly what she needed that evening. The two of them walked to the bar together, Jonathan chatting amiably about nothing at all, and it was a relief to find someone who knew nothing about Beni or Hamunaptra or the Med-Jai, or any of the problems that fell on her shoulders after Rick showed up and gave her that key. She soon found herself seated on a sofa with Jonathan, a cocktail from the bar clutched in her hand, and she savored the first delightful sip. She hadn't had nearly enough to drink that night.

Jonathan cleared his throat for the third time in the last ten minutes, as if he intended to say something important but kept changing his mind. He took a hearty swig of his own cocktail and leaned forward a little in his seat.

"So, er... you're a friend of Maudie's," he began.

Lillian wondered how much he'd had to drink already. "Yes."

"If you don't mind me saying so, you don't seem like a, well... you know what sort of girl Maudie is."

It dawned on her that he thought she was a prostitute. "Oh, no," Lillian said quickly. "I'm not that sort at all, really. I used to be Maudie's neighbor."

"Her neighbor," he echoed, as if the answer was right in front of him all along. "That explains it."

She was afraid Jonathan might ask for details, which would open a whole unwanted conversation about things she would rather not discuss, but he seemed content with her response. Lillian was thinking about getting up and fetching another drink when Jonathan spoke up again, his eyes fixed upon the nearby staircase.

"Good Lord," he murmured. "Who is that stunning girl?"

A woman dressed in white was coming down the stairs, glorious in her white feather boa and feathered mask. The difference between Clarissa and Mrs. Maywood was more drastic than ever as Clarissa made her quiet, unassuming way down the stairs. Mrs. Maywood was a spectacle when she made her descent earlier that evening, purposely drawing attention to herself in her bright red outfit and elaborate mask, while Clarissa walked as if she were merely trying to get downstairs with as little fuss as possible. She was lovely without making an effort.

To Lillian's surprise, Clarissa recognized her and headed right for her sofa, sitting herself down on the empty space beside Lillian. Jonathan's mouth dropped open in astonishment.

"He saw me," Clarissa murmured to Lillian, her words just barely audible.

Lillian assumed that "he" must be Ardeth. "What did you do?" she murmured back.

"What a coward would do," Clarissa replied. "He saw me and I could tell he knew me, so I hid upstairs for a bit. Have you seen him?"

"No. He's gone, I think."

"Pardon me," Jonathan cut in, "but are you two acquainted?"

"This is Clarissa," said Lillian. "Clarissa, this is Jonathan. He's a... friend of a friend."

"How do you do?" Clarissa said to Jonathan, her voice soft and polite. "I suppose you know my sister Franny."

"Never met her in my life, actually," Jonathan said with a grin. "I heard there would be a party, and I can't resist a good party. In fact, I make it a habit to _never_ resist a good party."

The reluctant little half-smile found its way into Clarissa's face again.

Lillian excused herself, feeling like a third wheel between two people she hardly knew, and did her best to blend in with the crowd as she got something to eat from the refreshment table. Beni must have left, since she saw no sign of his skulking form anywhere, and she hid behind a very large man to avoid Mrs. Maywood, who was telling a disappointed Izzy that no, she didn't conduct business during party hours. Having eaten enough to sustain another cocktail or two, Lillian wandered close to Jonathan's sofa and found that Clarissa was still there, talking to Jonathan and laughing at everything he said. Lillian watched in fascination, hardly believing that a woman like Clarissa could actually laugh. She and Jonathan were sitting very close, looking like a pair of masked lovers out of a stage play, and Lillian wanted to feel bitter as she watched them together. She wanted to feel jealous. Envious. Wistful. But the same old emptiness, which felt like her constant companion, stole over her once more and she couldn't fight it off.

Beni had taken everything from her after all.


	27. The Spell Is Broken

**Author's Note: **It's not the end yet, but I _think_ I can get this wrapped up in few more chapters. Maybe. I'm really eager to get this never-ending story done already, so I'm probably gonna put all my other stuff on hold until this story gets finished (which will hopefully be soon!).

* * *

The Spell Is Broken

"You are still here."

Lillian jumped at the sound of a familiar accented voice, her cigarette slipping from her fingers in her surprise. She quickly ground it under her shoe.

"Have you been out here all along?" she asked, looking up into Ardeth's dark eyes. He wasn't wearing his mask.

He blended in with the night sky, a shadow creeping along Mrs. Maywood's front yard, and he moved a little closer until he could speak without raising his voice. "I do not belong inside that house," he said.

"Neither do I," said Lillian, kicking absently at the smashed remains of her cigarette.

She had gone outside for a smoke and sat on the steps leading to the front door, listening to the music and voices that seeped out of the open windows. She had been tempted to get in her car and drive off without saying goodbye to anyone, but she changed her mind and remained on the steps, where she smoked and looked at the stars until Ardeth came out of nowhere and made her drop her cigarette.

"How long do these gatherings usually last?" asked Ardeth, frowning at the noise that came from the house.

"Hours," said Lillian. "I can give you a ride someplace, if you like."

"I will remain here and wait for this extravagance to be over," said Ardeth. His disapproving tone grew softer as he added, "Clarissa is here."

"I know."

"You have met her?"

"Her sister introduced us."

"Has she mentioned me?" asked Ardeth.

He looked so dark and formidable, yet he sounded so hopeful. There was something almost boyish in his question. "She doesn't hate you," said Lillian, reluctant to crush that hope completely. "But she still doesn't want to see you."

"It would be much easier if I did not still love her," said Ardeth. "I have three wives and several wonderful children, yet I continue to love that woman every day of my life. Am I wrong, Lillian? Am I a fool for allowing my heart to be so weak?"

She couldn't answer him. She couldn't even bear to look at him, knowing that Clarissa no longer loved him and was enjoying herself with Jonathan, laughing like a girl at all of his jokes. She wished she didn't have so many sad, lonely secrets locked away inside her.

"I should get back to the party," she said.

"Lillian." Ardeth loomed over her, as dark and dangerous as a specter from a nightmare, and she remembered what he was capabe of. She had seen him threaten a man at dagger-point. "Is there something I should know about?"

"I think you should let her go, Ardeth," she said. "It's the best thing to do."

"I would have done that long ago if it was possible. I love her too much."

"You'll be happier if you let her go," said Lillian, looking up at him sadly. "You'll both be happier."

But she could tell that Ardeth still believed in Clarissa, just like he believed in Hamunaptra and the curse. Lillian could bring him down so easily. All she had to do was tell him the unfortunate truth, that Clarissa had fallen out of love with him, and his belief would crumble before her eyes. She could do it so easily if she was heartless like Beni, but she didn't want to be the one to shatter Ardeth's belief. He would find out on his own sooner or later.

She left Ardeth and slipped back into the house, feeling safe behind her mask, and saw no sign of Mrs. Maywood in her long red gown. She saw no sign of Rick, who should be easy to spot when he refused to wear his ruined mask, or Darlene, who wasn't likely to stray from Rick's side. She did spy a white figure standing at the bar area, accompanied by a man in a familiar suit, and she hoped Ardeth didn't change his mind about remaining outside for the rest of the evening. It was bad enough that the woman he loved was enjoying another man's company; the fact that Clarissa was drinking only made it worse.

"That you, Lillian?"

Somebody tapped her on the shoulder and Lillian turned until she was face-to-face with a gold mask decorated in red gems. The woman who wore it was dressed in a simple blue outfit with long sleeves and a modest neckline.

"It's me, Maudie."

"Oh, thank heavens," said Maudie. "Bloody easy gettin' mixed up 'round here, with everyone hidin' their faces. 'Course, there ain't too many redheads in black dresses in this house." She looked over at the bar area, where Jonathan was handing something in a glass to Clarissa, and pursed her lips together in an expression that might have been a frown if Lillian could see her face. "Jonny's been havin' a jolly old time without me, it seems."

"It's my fault, really," said Lillian. "I introduced them."

"Oh, don't blame yerself, luv. A fellow like Jonny can't help gettin' charmed by a white witch like that."

"He still should have stayed with you."

"Jonny don't mean nothin' to me," Maudie said with an unconvincing laugh. "Sweetest man I ever had in me life, but a customer's still a customer."

Jonathan may have been charmed by Clarissa, but he didn't forget that he owed Maudie a ride home. At the end of the night he returned to Maudie's side on unsteady footsteps, giddy from a combination of fine liquor and a beautiful woman's company, and slung an arm around Maudie's shoulders.

"Let's hope that dratted car will start, eh?" he said.

Maudie gave him a playful little swat. "Not a chance with _you_ at the wheel, luv. Leave the drivin' to me."

The car must have cooperated, since Lillian didn't see either of them again that night, and she lingered in the house as she watched the guests take off their masks and trickle outside. Ardeth was still out there in the yard, waiting for something that Lillian didn't quite understand, and she figured she might as well stay behind and find out what it was. Worrying over Ardeth and Clarissa saved her from the unpleasant trouble of worrying about herself.

"Hey."

Rick stood before her, looking perfectly sober and ready to go home. He was one of the last remaining guests and Lillian let him approach her, knowing she couldn't avoid him forever.

"Where've you been all night?" asked Rick.

"Right here all along," Lillian responded vaguely, hoping to distract him with a smile. "Didn't you notice?"

He plucked at one of the silver feathers sprouting from her mask. "You can take this thing off, ya know. Party's over."

"Oh. You're right." Lillian slowly removed her mask and tried to keep the good side of her face hidden from Rick, but she could tell from the way his shoulders tensed that he had seen the damage. Beni had smacked her hard enough to leave an obvious bruise.

"Lil." Rick's voice was firm. "Who did that to you?"

"Did what?"

"Somebody hit you. If that desert guy you've been hanging around with—"

"It wasn't him," said Lillian.

"Then who was it?"

She had never been able to lie to Rick. He was her oldest friend, the only man she had ever truly loved—even if those feelings had probably faded by now—and he may have left numerous times to go to war and go adventuring, but he was always willing to be there for her.

"It was Beni," said Lillian. "We got into an argument and he lost his temper."

"Beni was here?"

"He left a while ago."

"Lucky for him," said Rick. "He won't be so lucky next time I see him."

"There won't be a next time. He said he's leaving Cairo tonight."

"Beni's leaving Cairo?" Rick said skeptically. "Just like that?"

"That's what he said, anyway."

"And we know how honest good ol' Beni is."

Rick looked as if he wanted to say something more, but Darlene came rushing up and latched onto his arm, gushing about how marvelous it was that Mrs. Maywood had introduced her to a real, actual Mormon that evening.

"A _Mormon_!" Darlene said eagerly. "With a whole flock of wives, too! Isn't it outrageous?"

The two of them walked out the door, following the other men and woman who headed for their cars and taxis, ready to return to their ordinary lives after a splendid night under Mrs. Maywood's roof, and it wasn't long until Lillian was the only one remaining. The food had been eaten. The cocktails had been drunk. Masks lay strewn about on the floor and the furniture, carelessly left behind and forgotten once the spell of the evening had ended, and Lillian supposed she had overstayed her welcome. She didn't belong in that silent gold room with the ghosts of the party lingering in the air, just like she didn't belong when the party was full of life. Perhaps Beni had the right idea when he decided to leave Cairo. She didn't feel like she belonged anywhere at all anymore.

She ventured outside again, where the only car left was her Model T, and searched the dark yard for a man in black robes. He stood near Mrs. Maywood's obelisk, his face turned towards the brightly lit windows, and raised a hand when he saw Lillian approaching.

"They have all gone?" he said.

"Looks like we're the last ones," said Lillian.

"I did not see Clarissa walk out the door."

Lillian hadn't seen her either. Either Clarissa had slipped out the back door and disappeared, or she was still in the house somewhere, determined to avoid Ardeth. "I'm getting ready to go back to my hotel," she said. "Is there anywhere you'd like me to take you?"

She had never asked if there was someplace Ardeth stayed when he was in the city, and he had never bothered to mention it. She didn't even know how he traveled from place to place when he wasn't taking reluctant rides in her car.

"Do not worry about me," said Ardeth. "Go to your hotel and get some rest."

"You're never going to let her go, are you?"

"Someday she will speak to me again," Ardeth said with certainty. "Perhaps it will be tonight. Perhaps it will be many nights from now, but I will keep waiting for her."

Maybe she should tell him the truth after all. Maybe he deserved to hear it right then and there, while they were both standing all alone in the chilly night—the last remaining members of a party that neither of them had truly enjoyed—than to keep hoping that Clarissa would fall into his arms once more. Lillian edged a little closer to Ardeth, searching desperately for the right words to say, and listened to the perfect stillness of the night. Except it wasn't so perfectly quiet anywhere.

"Do you hear that?" asked Lillian, growing nervous as the sudden noise drew closer.

"It sounds like hoof beats," Ardeth said grimly.

"Why would there be hoof beats around here? And at this time of night?"

Lillian soon received her answer. A group of horses came thundering into the yard—five of them in all—each one topped with a rider dressed in black robes identical to Ardeth's. Lillian watched in dread as the five men dismounted and walked across the yard in a shadowy group, the tattoos on their faces visible beneath the moonlight. One of the men had a silver hook for a hand.

The front door to the house banged open and Mrs. Maywood appeared, her red gown trailing behind her as she went down the steps. "Baqir, what is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "If you were hoping to attend my little party, you're a little too late."

"We seek the adulterer Ardeth Bay," Baqir growled. "We were told he was in your home."

"I am here," said Ardeth, stepping forward to meet the Med-Jai.

Beni had broken his promise. After everything Lillian had done to keep Ardeth's secret, Beni had gone and stabbed them all in the back, planning his getaway with Lillian's money in his pockets. The sight of Baqir and his terrible hook made her sick.

Baqir spat on the ground in front of Ardeth. "You have been accused of a very terrible sin."

"I know what I have done," said Ardeth, fighting to control his voice as he met Baqir's angry gaze. "And I would like to confess. Take me back to our people."


	28. Into the Light

Into the Light

Two weeks after the terrible night at Mrs. Maywood's house, Lillian found herself living in a respectable apartment not far from the museum. Her stay in the hotel had run its course and she could no longer stand that beautiful, lonely building, where she felt shut away with all her sad thoughts. The disastrous party still weighed on her mind, but she could rest a little easier in a new home that she could decorate however she liked, and she took comfort in knowing that her brother Douglas lived just down the street in an apartment of his own.

She didn't want to isolate herself anymore. Douglas had always respected her privacy and didn't ask her any unwanted questions, for which she was grateful, and she took frequent trips with him to the museum, where Douglas made his shy attempts at flirting with Evelyn the librarian—who happened to be Jonathan's sister—and Lillian paid visits to Dr. Bey. The man was completely rattled when he heard about Ardeth's sins and refused to believe it at first, until Lillian sat him down with a strong cup of tea and gently broke the whole story about Ardeth and Clarissa.

Dr. Bey soon became her source of news about the Med-Jai. According to him, the tribe spent five whole days deciding Ardeth's fate after he made his confession. Though they served Allah, the Med-Jai had their own set of laws that differed slightly from other tribes, and sins as serious as Ardeth's could be punished with either a death penalty or lifelong banishment, according to a vote.

"Ardeth has disgraced himself as a leader, but he has long been beloved by our people," Dr. Bey informed her a few days before. "Nobody wanted to see him executed for his sins. He will live, but he can never return to the tribe and must take one hundred lashes as additional punishment for his wrongdoing."

"What about his wives and children?" Lillian had asked.

"He will be divorced from his wives. The tribe will look after them until they find new husbands who can provide for them and their children."

Having taken his punishment, Ardeth was living somewhere in the city in his shame and disgrace, recovering from the wounds inflicted upon his back. Lillian hadn't seen him, but Clarissa had finally decided to speak to him again and visited the little apartment where he was staying in the city. She offered to help him through his hardship, but Ardeth was too proud to accept her help and preferred to suffer alone.

"There's no use in hiding myself away like a hermit when the truth is out," Clarissa told Lillian just the other day. She found out Lillian's address and decided to take luncheon with her, paying her very first social call since her divorce. "Anyway, I don't care about my reputation anymore. What does a reputation matter compared to what Ardeth's gone through?"

"He's miserable here, isn't he?" said Lillian. "I know he can't stand the city with all its automobiles and modern contraptions."

"If only he wasn't so stubborn. I offered to do some cooking and cleaning for him, or hire a maid to take care of it, but he keeps saying he doesn't need anything from me."

Clarissa had been wearing white again that day, which surely would have annoyed her sister, but Lillian didn't agree with Mrs. Maywood's claim that Clarissa wore white in an attempt to look pure. The absence of color suited the empty mood.

"He knows the truth now," Clarissa added in her soft, mournful voice. "He tried to take me into his arms and kiss me, but I grew as stiff as a board and pulled away. I couldn't help it. And then he looked into my eyes and I could tell he just _knew_. He could see that I no longer loved him. If it wasn't for Janey he would probably be out in the desert somewhere, wandering on his own."

Clarissa needed someone to confide in now that her world had been turned upside-down, and she seemed to think that Lillian was the perfect person to hear her troubles. Lillian didn't mind; in fact, it felt refreshing to be really, truly needed rather than used the way Beni constantly used her, and she invited Clarissa to have breakfast with her that morning. She was willing to be the friend that Clarissa desperately needed.

She opened up the curtains of her apartment and let the morning light stream in, lending a soft glow to the nice furniture and comfortable rugs on the floor. When she looked out her bedroom window she didn't see the beggars and whores and dope fiends that littered her old neighborhood, but she didn't see the snooty, superior members of her parents' world either. She simply saw people going about their lives and she liked the simplicity of the view outside. All she had to do was stand at her window and look at the street for a few moments, watching all the ordinary people down below, and she was able to remember that she was in a good place. Beni was long gone and could no longer hurt her. Ardeth was still alive despite losing everything. She was starting to form a relationship with her brother again.

She sat at her vanity and painted her lips the same red shade she always used, since it was one old habit she didn't mind holding onto, and was satisfied when she inspected the side of her face. She could no longer see the bruise Beni gave her. If only she could stop feeling the marks of his final betrayal.

A knock on the door told her that Clarissa had arrived, and Lillian remembered a similar knock that came many nights ago, on a night when she dolled herself up for Beni and found Rick at her door instead. Sometimes she wished he had never given her that troublesome key, but there were other times when she longed to throw her arms around him in gratitude.

She opened the door and found Clarissa standing in the hall, looking around her with the wide-eyed nervousness that came from being shut away for so long. Aside from attending her sister's party, Clarissa had been a recluse before the secret got out and she quickly stepped inside the apartment, clearly relieved to be out of the hall and safely enclosed in Lillian's front room.

"How's Ardeth?" Lillian asked as they sat down to breakfast. She poured coffee for herself and tea for Clarissa, trying not to think about a certain whiny voice demanding more sugar scooped into his cup. She wouldn't let Beni's memory spoil her morning.

"The same as ever," Clarissa replied. "Holed up in the most backward, antiquated corner of town, working himself half to death at some construction site."

"When did he get a job?"

"He started work a couple of days ago. I brought Janey over to see him yesterday morning and found him getting ready to go out." Clarissa seemed less nervous as she sipped her tea and sampled her eggs and toast. Less nervous and more willing to let go of everything that weighed on her mind. "It would all be so much easier if I still loved him. I wish I _did_ still love him. I finally had the nerve to tell Janey that Ardeth is her father, but now I'm not sure if I should have done it."

"She likes Ardeth, doesn't she?"

"Oh, yes. Janey isn't the problem, really. Jonathan is."

Lillian knew that Jonathan Carnahan was still seeing Clarissa. She also knew he was still paying nighttime visits to Maudie's bedroom. "Why is he a problem?"

"I like him very much," said Clarissa, looking down at her plate. "Perhaps a little too much, and I feel guilty when I see Ardeth and Janey together. I feel like I'm being unfair to them both."

"You have to do what makes you happy," said Lillian.

"I _am_ happy when I'm with Jonathan. I know what sort of man he is. I know he gambles and drinks too much and visits certain women, but I always laugh when I'm with Jonathan. My husband was a serious man. Ardeth has got to be the most serious man alive. I could really use a good laugh now and then."

"I think your daughter would rather see you laugh than cry," said Lillian. "And so would Ardeth, even if it hurts him at first."

"Maybe you're right. I'm simply so tired, Lillian. I've been tired for more than two years now." Clarissa reached for the teapot and smiled; not the sort of full, bright grin she wore when Jonathan charmed her at the party, but still a smile. "I must be the only American around here who prefers tea over coffee," she added, her tone suddenly light.

Clarissa didn't say so, but the conversation about Ardeth was clearly over and Lillian didn't mention his name again. Even when Clarissa showed her a photograph of Janey—a solemn-eyed toddler who took after her father—Lillian didn't dare talk about Ardeth. Bringing up Ardeth again would only chase out the sunshine that filled her kitchen, and Lillian had become too fond of the light to let it go. There would be other times and places to dwell on the sad fate of a man who was ruined by his mistakes.

Clarissa didn't stay long and departed after breakfast was over, making her anxious way back into the world where a taxi awaited her, and Lillian fetched the morning paper from its spot on the coffee table. She hadn't bothered to look at it when it was delivered that morning and left it lying face-down on the table, but now she picked it up to glance at the front page.

And saw a face she recognized.

"Oh my God," Lillian murmured. She stared and stared at the front page of the newspaper, hoping the words and the picture would somehow disappear, but it all remained horribly real.

The headline was short and direct, stamped across the page in enormous black letters: _Hamunaptra Found!_

And then there was the photograph. The two men in the picture both wore fezzes on their heads, though they looked as different as night and day as they stood side-by-side on the dock of a boat, a heap of treasure piled behind them. Beni had his skinny arms crossed over his chest, as if trying his hardest not to touch the man beside him, though his face was smug and he was grinning at the camera in a way that might have looked handsome at a glance. Lillian had never seen him look so happy. Dr. Chamberlain appeared less ecstatic; his disapproval of Beni was evident from the way he held himself, and Lillian imagined he must be aghast at sharing his glory with a man like Beni Gabor.

But oh, she couldn't believe it. The whole thing was impossible. Yet the evidence was right there, splashed across the front page of the morning paper, and Lillian sank down into a chair so she could read the article.

Dr. Chamberlain, supposedly a "celebrated historian," and Beni, who was referred to as a "staunch member of the Jewish community," arrived at Giza Port early that morning before the sun had risen. They sailed on a boat loaded to the corners with gold—the treasure of Seti I, believed to be Egypt's wealthiest pharaoh—and were now being hailed as the two wealthiest men in Africa. They had succeeded where countless men had failed, thanks to Beni's so-called "keen intuition" and Chamberlain's good fortune of stumbling upon a map that led them right to the treasure chamber.

"The map," Lillian said outloud, struggling to accept the impossible reality. She remembered a piece of ancient paper hidden inside the key and supposed Chamberlain removed it before giving the key to Ardeth. Ardeth must have assumed the map was still inside the key.

Lillian kept on reading, feeling giddy as she absorbed the words that remained on the page. Apparently Beni and Chamberlain found the treasure chamber at exactly the same time, which meant they had to split the credit and the money right down the middle, and Lillian was drawn to the photograph once more, aware of the mingled joy and dissatisfaction that came from two men who obviously loathed each other and had to pretend otherwise. It would have been comical if it wasn't for the fact that Beni was now rich.

Beni was _rich_.

Richer than rich, in fact. So impossibly wealthy that it was absurd.

_I'm leaving Cairo_, Beni had said on the night of the party, and he let her believe he was traveling to some far-off city overseas, never to return. He probably thought she was the biggest fool alive.

She _was_ the biggest fool alive.

He had crafted the perfect plan right under her nose, knowing perfectly well that he was taking Chamberlain to Hamunaptra and would receive a hefty payment in return. He didn't need Lillian's money. He only needed a way to distract the Med-Jai and keep them off his tail, and Ardeth's secret was the key to his success.

Lillian had to get out of there. She didn't know what she was going to do or where she was going to go, but she had to get out of her apartment and do _something._ Anger was running through her veins; anger and bewilderment and the sick feeling of betrayal, and she was still clutching the paper in one hand as she rushed out of her apartment and down the elevator. Somehow she ended up on the street and kept on walking, forgetting all about her car, and didn't stop walking until she reached the nearby building where Douglas lived. He wasn't Rick, but he was the nearest person she had, and Lillian was breathless by the time she reached her brother's apartment and pounded upon the door.

Surely Douglas could make some sense out of this mess.


	29. The Untouchable

The Untouchable

"I can't believe it," Douglas said again. "I just can't believe it."

He was impeccably dressed as usual in a waistcoat and tie, but his horn-rimmed glasses were askew and his hair was rumpled, as if he had been running his hands through it. Lillian had found him in shock over the morning paper, his normally calm manner shattered by the news about Hamunaptra, and the two of them spent several confused minutes assuring each other that yes, the article was real. The lost city actually existed. A mediocre Egyptologist and a Hungarian street rat had become famous overnight.

And yet Douglas was completely stunned. Douglas, who didn't flinch when he found a cobra curled up in his bedroom. Who didn't bat an eye when a clumsy waiter spilled soup all over his lap. Who didn't seem surprised when Andrew and Lillian abruptly ended their engagement.

"I always supposed Hamunaptra was out there somewhere, waiting to be found," Douglas added, playing absently with his tie as he sat in a chair with the paper in his lap. "But to see it discovered in my lifetime! This day will have a chapter all to itself in the history books."

"What about the curse?" asked Lillian. "Do you believe there's a curse on Hamunaptra?"

"There's always superstition surrounding the great treasure hordes. People haven't stopped talking about Lord Carnarvon since he dropped dead in his hotel room, but there's no curse, Lillian. Not a real one, anyway. I suppose it's only a matter of time until wild stories start appearing in the papers."

Douglas sounded so self-assured, even with his glasses askew and his hair standing on end. Lillian felt calmer just listening to his voice. "There will definitely be wild stories," she said, looking down at her own copy of the paper. Beni grinned up at her in the photograph, already looking like a man corrupted by his own good fortune.

"I'm surprised at you, you know," Douglas remarked. "You never had much interest in ancient Egypt."

"I still don't, really," said Lillian.

"Well you were acting like the biggest Egypt fanatic on earth when you showed up at my door. I've never seen you so flustered in my life."

"It's not Hamunaptra that's got me flustered, Doug."

"Then what is it?"

"I know this man," said Lillian, pointing to Beni's picture. "And I've got to talk to him right away."

"Good luck with that. He's probably being swarmed by the press as we speak."

"I _need_ to talk to him. You know people in the Egyptology field. Surely there's some way you can get me a meeting with him."

Douglas looked at Lillian, his eyes calm and steady behind his glasses. She didn't sense any judgment in that quiet gaze; only curiosity and a willingness to help her if he could only understand why she needed his help in the first place. "Is it truly urgent that you speak with this..." He glanced at the article. "Mr. Gabor?"

It felt very odd to hear her brother say Beni's name. "Yes," said Lillian.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Doug."

Lillian felt sad all of a sudden, knowing her brother would have defended her if he knew the truth about her broken engagement. He would have helped her if only she'd had the courage to tell him what happened. Douglas had always been dependable in the same way that Rick was dependable. He wasn't like Adam or Malcolm, her two oldest brothers who were off hunting big game in East Africa. Her other brothers merely tolerated her the way siblings were expected to tolerate each other, and Lillian felt farther away from them with every passing year. For a while she felt far away from Douglas too, though she couldn't imagine why when he sat right in front of her, completely unchanged from the man she knew before her life became dark.

Someday she would tell him everything. Someday, when the chaos settled and she didn't have so many urgent things on her mind. Rick had probably seen the news by now. Darlene must have gone into shock from the excitement. Lillian wouldn't be surprised if Dr. Bey was in the midst of a heart attack.

Douglas straightened his glasses and tried to comb his hair into some sort of order, then promised Lillian he would try to locate Beni and find some way to speak with him.

"I'd like to ask the man a few questions myself," he said. "How on earth does a poor Jew from Budapest, with no education from the sound of it, stumble upon a city that's eluded scholars for centuries?"

"Pure luck, I suppose," said Lillian.

A sudden burst of worry gripped her when she realized that Beni and her brother might come face-to-face, and that Beni would love nothing more than to make lewd comments about Lillian, especially when his new wealth made him practically untouchable, but the worry soon died down. Douglas would hear the whole story eventually, whether Beni said anything or not. He would know where Lillian had been living during her long absence from the respectable world, and why she never talked about her life in the slums. He would know why nobody had ever discovered Hamunaptra, and why Beni and Chamberlain were able to succeed where so many had failed. He would know about Ardeth and his cruel fate. The whole city would know what Beni had done to Ardeth if Lillian had her way, though she supposed it wouldn't make a difference when Beni could simply buy his way out of trouble. Still, she would try to shed light on his character, even if no one in the Egyptology world was willing to believe it. The thought of Beni being hailed as a hero made her sick.

She decided to visit the orphanage that morning, since she didn't know how long it would take for Douglas to get a meeting with Beni, and took the paper with her as she left Douglas' apartment and walked back down the street. She couldn't help but glance over the article again as she walked, hoping it would sound more real the longer she looked at it, and tried to imagine what the scene at Giza Port must have been like. The author of the article didn't spend much time on Chamberlain, who only had a couple of stuffy, boring replies recorded, but Beni's words were all over the page. She could practically hear his sorrowful whine when he supposedly told reporters that his poor, dead mother would be _so_ proud of him if she could see him now. And she cringed when he said he couldn't wait to tell the whole story to his future children. She supposed there were plenty of women who _would_ want to have children with him now that he was impossibly rich.

The reporters were going to love him as long as he kept spouting nonsense about his tragic upbringing and his longing for children and his wild claims of being a devout Jew. It only made Lillian more determined to see Beni, just so she could tell him what a treacherous little snake he truly was.

She was relieved when she finally reached the orphanage. St. Elizabeth's was an entirely different world when she stepped inside those quiet, secluded walls. Nobody spoke about Hamunaptra or Seti I or hidden treasure chambers. Nobody was interested in Allen Chamberlain or Beni Gabor. The children were so innocent, only concerned with the stories Lillian read to them, and by the time Douglas arrived she had almost forgotten why she was so agitated that morning, until the sight of her brother's face reminded her.

"He's at the Windsor," Douglas told her, his voice low and discreet as he took her out of the schoolroom and into the empty hall.

"You saw him?" asked Lillian.

"No, not in person. I had to remain in the hotel lobby and speak to him through the telephone."

"Is he willing to speak to _me_ in person?"

"He said he'd love to see you," said Douglas.

"Is that what he actually said?"

"Those were his exact words."

Beni wanted to see her. Lillian couldn't believe that after the bitter scene they had in Mrs. Maywood's house, he actually _wanted_ to see her. He was probably just dying for a chance to rub his good luck in her face.

"Would you like me to go with you?" asked Douglas.

She wished she could tell what Douglas was thinking. Beni could have said anything over the telephone—_anything_ at all—and Lillian would never know unless Douglas was willing to tell her. "It's better if I go alone," she said. "Just give me his room number."

"The hotel's a madhouse," he warned her. "Everyone's hoping for a glimpse of the man who found Hamunaptra."

"What about Dr. Chamberlain? Is he at the Windsor too?"

"No. He's all the way on the other side of town, meeting with all the big scholars and archaeologists. It's going to take weeks for them to sort through all that treasure."

Douglas helped her outside, since Lillian started walking the wrong way in her distraction, and he offered once more to escort her to the hotel.

"At least as far as the lobby," he said as he walked her to her car.

"I'll be fine," said Lillian. "Really."

"You could end up in the papers yourself, you know," said Douglas, looking at her gravely. "Take care."

She waved goodbye to him as she got in her car, trying not to dwell on all the embarrassing things Beni could have told her brother, and hurried to the Windsor hotel. The place was swarmed with cars and she had to fight her way through a crowd of reporters, cameramen, and curious people, until she finally reached the front desk and explained who she was. A man in uniform looked through her handbag and checked her clothes for concealed weapons, much to her shock and embarrassment, and he merely shrugged at Lillian's futile protests.

"Mr. Gabor's orders," he said, his voice distinctly English and disapproving. "He insisted upon it quite firmly."

The man's opinion of Beni was evident in his haughty tone of voice, strikingly similar to Dr. Chamberlain's, and when he took Lillian into the elevator he acted as if they were headed to an opium den.

"I will be waiting outside if you need further assistance," he said stiffly, stationing himself at the end of the hall where Beni was staying.

Somebody must have telephoned Beni and told him of Lillian's arrival, since his door stood open and a massive Arab man stood at the threshold, his thick arms crossed over his chest. He wordlessly let Lillian into the room and retreated to a corner, where he watched her with dark, unblinking eyes. She soon heard a voice she never thought she would hear again.

"My darling Lillian. How wonderful it is to see you."

Beni was lounging on the bed in nothing but a bathrobe, propped up by richly embroidered pillows. He was cleaner and tidier than she had ever seen him before, his damp hair neatly parted and his face shaved of all the pesky stubble that constantly lingered when Lillian was living with him. He looked every inch a victorious traitor, enjoying his rise in status that came from another man's downfall.

"Hello, Beni," said Lillian, forcing herself to speak pleasantly. "It looks like we have a lot to catch up on."

"Come, have a seat and try some of this champagne," said Beni, grabbing the open bottle that sat nearby. "The finest in the city."

Lillian drew closer to the bed, but she didn't sit down. She noticed Beni wore gold rings on three of his fingers. "Didn't take long for you to reap the benefits if your discovery, did it?"

"This is only the start of it," Beni said smugly. "Once my good friend Allen has determined the value of the treasure, I will be swimming in gold."

"Well congratulations."

Beni took a lazy sip of champagne. "Thank you."

"Who's he?" asked Lillian, gesturing at the Arab man who loomed in the corner.

"That is Hashim, my new bodyguard." Beni's voice carried all the sorrow in the world. "An unfortunate necessity, I'm afraid. You would not believe how many people would like to kill me."

"Oh, I can believe it. I know what you did, Beni."

"What have I done?"

"You told the Med-Jai about Ardeth's secret. After you promised me you wouldn't."

"Oh, that." Beni tipped a casual amount of champagne into his glass. "I was merely doing the right thing."

"How on earth is ratting somebody out the right thing?" Lillian demanded, hating the way he sat there with such perfect nonchalance, as if he had sat in the lap of luxury all his life. "You broke your promise and had a man completely ruined."

"People will not see it that way. That Ardeth man committed a terrible sin and I did his people a favor by telling them about it. The Muslims in the city will thank me for exposing such shameful impurity. As for the white men... they will not care. What do they care if some desert leader is in disgrace?"

"You won't be a hero for long, you know. Sooner or later, everyone is going to find out how horrible you really are."

Beni's grin was infuriatingly confidant. "You do not have to be liked by anyone when you are rich. And I am going to be very, very rich, my dear. I will have ultimate freedom."

He was right. She knew he was perfectly right about everything and she felt powerless standing there in that grand hotel room, watching him sit in his bathrobe sipping his expensive victory drink. The tables had turned and he was enjoying every minute of it.

"Well I'm glad you don't care about being liked," she said. "Because I despise you."

"I especially don't need to be liked by _you_," said Beni, trying his best to sound haughty. "I can have any woman in this city. They will all be lined up at my door in a matter of days, hoping to become my wife."

"I feel sorry for whatever woman is foolish enough to marry you."

"And my wife will be laughing at you because you were foolish enough to throw all of this away."

"I'm leaving," said Lillian, unable to take the sight of his smug face any longer.

"Already?" said Beni, pretending to look shocked. "You have not even tasted the champagne."

"I ought to take the champagne bottle and crack it over your head."

Beni didn't look so amused anymore. "Hashim, remove this woman from my sight," he ordered his bodyguard. "She has overstayed her welcome."

Lillian gasped when Hashim appeared behind her, surprisingly fast and stealthy for a man of his size, and clamped a strong hand around her arm so he could drag her from the room.

"Farewell," said Beni, raising his glass to her as Hashim pulled her away. "I will always fondly remember you as the woman who could have been my wife."

She could hear him snickering until Hashim shoved her into the hall and slammed the door shut, cutting her off from Beni Gabor and his rich, selfish little world. She hoped he did get married and that his wife was an absolute shrew. She hoped his children detested him. She hoped—

There was no use hoping anything anymore. It didn't matter that she had money of her own, or that she came from a respectable family, or that she was educated and had a proper upbringing. Everything she said and did was meaningless, now that Beni was entitled to limitless wealth and power, and she didn't even mind when the Englishman in the hotel uniform looked at her with disdain and informed her in his stiff, formal voice that he would be escorting her downstairs.

She tried not to think about Beni as she followed the man down the hall and got into the elevator, but she couldn't stop thinking about Beni taking luxurious baths and ordering expensive champagne. Beni riding about town in the finest car money could buy, lounging in the backseat while a servant did the driving for him. Beni charming dozens of women who were blinded by the dazzling contents of his wallet. It was too much. It was _all_ too much. She wanted nothing more than to go home and have a drink and crumple up her copy of the newspaper, because there had to be _some_ way she could get that awful man out of her mind.

She could still hear him snickering at her, even as she slipped through the crowded lobby and hurried into the street.


	30. When the Sun Comes Up

**Author's Note: **I didn't plan on this being the last chapter, but once I started writing and re-writing and agonizing over the whole thing, I decided that it's right to end it here. So this is it: the final chapter! The story isn't _quite_ over yet, though. I'm eventually going to write a short spin-off revolving around Beni and Chamberlain and certain events that happen in this chapter, so I'm pretty excited about that. But in the meantime, I'm happy that this story is finished at last. Thank you to all the wonderful people who took the time to review!

* * *

When the Sun Comes Up

It only took a week for Beni to acquire a wardrobe of expensive suits, a silver pocket watch engraved with his initials, a gold-tipped cane, and a shiny Rolls Royce. The newspapers continued to treat him like a celebrity, despite the fact that Chamberlain made it clear he thought Beni was nothing but "miserable foreigner trash who can't even scrawl his own name in the dirt." Chamberlain's scathing remarks did nothing to decrease the public's fascination with Beni. In fact, people seemed more interested than ever once the sordid details of Beni's life began to trickle into the open, and no amount of polite speeches and staunch respectability could win Chamberlain the same amount of attention.

"Allen Chamberlain is a stuffy old prig who's already made a name for himself in the field, sweetie," Mrs. Maywood told Lillian over cocktails one afternoon. "Nobody gives a hoot about a man like that. Mr. Gabor, on the other hand, is exactly what the sensation-loving public wants. Everybody loves a story about a poor, disreputable waif who strikes it rich."

"He's trying to have a national Beni Gabor Day established," said Lillian. "Did you hear about that? As if he's done Egypt a great favor by finding Hamunaptra."

"Your friend Mr. O'Connell seems to be taking the whole thing quite well," said Mrs. Maywood. She sat on a sky blue chair with her dog Algy in her lap, looking more dramatic than ever in a black turban and a pair of massive hoop earrings. "He _did_ discover Hamunaptra too, after all."

"Rick is... complicated," said Lillian.

"Complicated, indeed. I know that if _I_ found a lost ancient city, I certainly wouldn't help destroy it."

"I think he just wanted an excuse to take an airplane ride."

Mrs. Maywood took a pair of cigarettes out of a little golden case, one for herself and one for Lillian. "Well, Mr. O'Connell _does_ look dashing in the front seat of my plane. It's a pity Darlene got her dear little claws into him first."

Lillian paid a visit to Dr. Bey a week ago, after her unpleasant visit with Beni at the Windsor Hotel. She brought Rick with her, since he happened to arrive at her apartment while she was getting ready to head to the museum, and the two of them spent ages trying to calm down Dr. Bey, who had gone half-mad from dismay over Hamunaptra.

The perfect order of his office had deteriorated until Lillian hardly recognized it. Books and papers, which were normally stacked and shelved with the most careful precision, were strewn about the room in a fit of carelessness, and the window drapes—always tightly shut against the Egyptian sun—had been left wide open. Lillian tried to tidy the place up, while Rick—who was seeking an escape since Darlene insisted on telling half the town she met Beni one time—sat back and tried to keep his patience as Dr. Bey ranted about liars and deceivers and his hopes that Dr. Chamberlain fell into a pit of scarab beetles and was slowly eaten alive.

"This is an absolute disaster," Dr. Bey had declared, slamming his fist upon the desk. "A _disaster_. What in Allah's name have I done to deserve this?"

Lillian remembered how tempting it was to laugh at Dr. Bey's theatrics, despite the serious situation. "You haven't lost everything," she told him, rescuing a paper weight that threatened to topple off the desk. "The Med-Jai still have the key, don't they?"

"The key," Dr. Bey grumbled. "There are ways of opening locks _without_ a key, Miss Murray, if one is determined enough. If Allen decides to dig up the rest of the city and discovers the Book of the Dead, it's all over."

"What if you guys get to it first?" Rick asked.

That was all it took to snap Dr. Bey out of his distress. His belief in the curse—as nonsensical as it seemed to Lillian—was as strong as ever, and Rick's rather obvious suggestion brought back the old fervor that had been crushed by the morning headline. The Med-Jai needed haste, Dr. Bey insisted, especially if some of Chamberlain's workers were still at the dig site, and somehow Lillian ended up mentioning Mrs. Maywood's airplane. Next thing she knew she was on Dr. Bey's telephone, calling Mrs. Maywood to ask if she would do a favor for a tribe she despised. Perhaps it was guilt over Ardeth's sad fate, or perhaps it was simply a desire to take part in something exciting, but Mrs. Maywood agreed to lend her plane, as long as Rick was steering. She didn't trust the desert men to bring it back in one piece.

None of the Med-Jai knew how to steer it anyway. Lillian sat there in Dr. Bey's office with the telephone in her hand, ready to ask Rick if he would agree to fly the plane, and she could already tell from his face that he would do it. She could see in his eyes that Rick still craved adventure, even after countless months of wandering around Europe and the desert and God only knew where else. Even after the city was turned on its head over Beni and Chamberlain's discovery. Lillian knew that old restlessness, since she had seen it a hundred times, and she declined Rick's offer to take her up in the sky with him. She had no desire to soar among the clouds in a dangerous flying machine. She had no wish to see the place where Beni found his undeserved wealth.

It only took a matter of hours for Rick and one of the braver Med-Jai to fly to Hamunaptra and pull the lever that would sink the city into the sand. Chamberlain could always dig the city back up if he desired, but the Med-Jai would worry about that later, if they had to worry about it at all. For the time being, the Book of the Dead and the Creature were safely collapsed beneath the ruins of the city, thanks to Rick and the Med-Jai's combined efforts. Rick didn't have much to say about the journey to Hamunaptra or the task he helped perform, other than the obvious thrill of being in the air, and he remained closed-mouthed about everything else related to Hamunaptra and Beni's discovery. If he was upset over Beni's sudden good fortune, he did an excellent job of hiding it.

"I believe a national Beni Gabor Day is the least of our worries," Mrs. Maywood remarked, bringing Lillian back to the present. "Have you read this morning's paper, sweetie?"

"No." Lillian took a much-needed drag on her cigarette. "I'm still thinking about canceling my subscription."

"Quite foolish of you, really. A little publicity doesn't hurt once in a while."

"There's a difference between publicity and unwanted attention," said Lillian.

"Well I haven't seen your name mentioned in days. The reporters have surely forgotten you, now that Mr. Gabor has started making a swathe through the sudden influx of debutantes littering the city."

Lillian had been mortified when her name appeared in the paper the day after her meeting with Beni. It wasn't much; only a brief mention in a small article, but it was enough to make Lillian feel like her name had been part of the headline, especially when she was referred to as the "woman who heartlessly spurned Beni Gabor." Her parents—who hardly spoke to her and took little interest in her whereabouts—kept calling her up and demanding to know how she met such a pitiful urchin of a man, and why she didn't attempt to catch a nice, respectable widower like Dr. Chamberlain. Lillian was so upset, she vowed she would never look at a newspaper again, but of course she broke that promise as soon as she made it. The news beckoned to her each day, tormenting her with Beni's name and face splashed all over the pages, and she finally decided to overcome her weakness that very morning by refusing to read the paper. She tossed the whole thing out of her bedroom window, letting the pages rain down on the street where they couldn't pester her.

To her dismay, Mrs. Maywood brought out her copy of the morning paper and laid it on the coffee table. "To borrow a favorite expression of Darlene's, you'll _absolutely die_ when you hear this," she told Lillian. "Go on, take a look at the front page."

Lillian looked at the paper, unable to help herself, and had to crack a smile at the headline. "He's having a synagogue built in his name?"

"I believe he wants to call it Temple Beni Gabor," said Mrs. Maywood. "He's obviously a subtle man as well as a great explorer."

"And the most devout Jew in Cairo, apparently," said Lillian. "Despite his frequent worship at the local mosques and cathedrals."

"He's calling his discovery a 'triumphant moment for the Jewish people,' you know. I suppose he thinks he's a step or two below Moses himself."

"Is it all right if I take this?" asked Lillian, tugging at the end of the newspaper. "I'd like to read it when I get home."

"Sweetie, I quite _insist_ you take it," said Mrs. Maywood. "You really ought to keep your subscription to the paper. I find the daily news gives me a good chuckle over my coffee each morning."

Mrs. Maywood herself was an excellent remedy for melancholy. She helped Lillian cope with Beni's appalling new status, since she had a gift for making the whole thing sound so absurd, and Lillian found herself visiting her often. She finished her cocktails and her cigarette, and when it was time to leave the she took the paper and had a laugh over the photograph, which pictured Beni in a fancy suit with a yarmulke on his head, looking very somber and devout. Next time the morning paper arrived, she would take Mrs. Maywood's advice and read every word on the front page.

It took another week for Beni to earn a reputation as the most eligible bachelor on the African continent. He told the papers he was looking for a wife, which brought dozens of prospective gold diggers flocking to his side, and Lillian began to avoid the city's popular restaurants and pubs. It made her sick thinking of Beni zipping his way through town in his Rolls Royce and sauntering into restaurants with a different woman on his arm every night.

She saw him once, when she was having dinner with Rick. Beni came strolling in with his ridiculous gold-topped cane in his hand, accompanied by a blonde draped in jewels and fur. Hashim, his Arab bodyguard, trailed behind at a respectful distance. Lillian hated to admit it, but Beni looked better than he ever had before with his nice suits and his neatly trimmed hair and his fancy cane. The man who once came crawling into her dismal apartment with lice on his scalp had disappeared. The man who stole shirts and trousers off the neighbors' clotheslines had vanished forever. Beni looked right at her, but she couldn't tell if he wanted to speak to her or not, and he soon turned his head as if he had never seen her at all. She and Rick sat too far away to start a conversation, even if Lillian wanted to, and she saw Beni murmur something into the restaurant host's ear. A moment later he and his blonde companion were led to a table at the other end of the restaurant, where Lillian could no longer see them.

It was all becoming too much. The news articles, her family's incessant phone calls, the occasional sightings of Beni in public. It was becoming too much and Lillian began to think once more of hopping on a boat and sailing off to America, where she could try to make something of herself. She couldn't spend the rest of her days being known as the woman who rejected Beni. She couldn't live her life in a city where Beni flaunted his wealth and behaved like he was too good for her. Yet she continued to linger in Cairo. The days passed and still she remained, unable to tear herself away from her friends in spite of her discontent. The days turned into weeks and sometimes she would look through her things and decide what she should take overseas, but that was all, and life in the city continued around her.

The construction of Beni's synagogue began to take place, much to Mrs. Maywood's amusement, and Lillian followed the story in the papers when she needed a laugh.

She came across Ardeth a couple of times and thought he looked older and wearier since Mrs. Maywood's party, and she saw a sadness in his eyes that refused to fade away.

Rick and Darlene stopped living together.

Lillian had seen it coming for quite some time. Rick and Darlene didn't have a big quarrel and storm out on each other the way some people did; rather, they simply drifted apart until Rick packed his things and found an apartment of his own. He took up a habit of accompanying Lillian to the museum, where she continued to visit the downhearted Dr. Bey, and spent an increasing amount of time in the library where Evelyn Carnahan worked, much to Douglas' disappointment. Evelyn was completely different from all the other women Rick had been with over the years, but maybe that was what he needed. Maybe he needed something different.

Maybe they all needed something different.

It was a hot June morning, a full month and a half after Beni's discovery, when Lillian read the morning paper and knew she had to leave. It started with an uncomfortable feeling, like she had been caught outside in just her underwear, though she didn't know why she would feel that way, and her first thought was to crumple up the paper and throw it away. But no, she couldn't do that. She had to read the article—every last unsettling word—and by the time she was finished she was already thinking of boat tickets and foreign shores and cities where the sun didn't shine all year long. She had to get out of there.

She had to get out.

Leaving the paper behind, Lillian slipped on her shoes and got into the elevator, which still felt like a blissful extravagance after months of climbing rickety stairs, and went outside to her car. She didn't know what she was doing exactly, or why she was doing it; she was only aware that she felt odd and needed to talk to someone. It was too much. It was _all_ becoming too much.

She drove past Douglas' apartment, past the museum and into the poorer section of town where Rick lived in a building with no elevator and the occasional mouse, though it was nowhere near as depressing as Lillian's old home. The odd feeling stayed with her, even as she climbed three flights of stairs and walked to the end of the hall where Rick's door stood shut, and she supposed she was behaving like a fool for dashing over to Rick's so early in the morning. It wasn't as if the sky was falling.

Lillian knocked on the door anyway.

She only had to knock a couple of times before the door swung open and Rick appeared, dressed in a plain shirt with his suspenders hanging off his shoulders. He looked nothing like Beni, who insisted on wearing three-piece suits seven days a week, and Lillian found Rick's simple attire strangely comforting.

He took one look at her and frowned. "What happened?"

Now that was Lillian was there, she wasn't sure how to begin. "I'm all right," she reassured Rick. "I just... I could really use a drink right now. I know it's early, but..." She trailed off, feeling more ridiculous with each word that left her mouth.

Rick cracked a wry smile. "Heard about Beni, huh?"

"Yes. It's all over the paper."

"Could use a drink myself," he muttered.

Rick let her into the apartment and had her take a seat while he rummaged around for a bottle and clean glasses. Lillian jumped up to help him after she heard glass breaking and a couple of loud swear words, and she ended up pouring the drinks while Rick sat on the sofa.

"So what are you gonna do?" said Rick. He caught Lillian glancing at the newspaper and guessed what she was thinking. "You gonna stroll up to his big fancy house and congratulate him?"

"Of course not," said Lillian. "That's the last thing he needs."

"Think he'll invite you to the wedding?"

"Do you think he'll invite _you_?" asked Lillian.

"Sure. He'll try to hire me to clean up after the party."

"Have you spoken to him at all lately?"

"Nah," said Rick, staring into his drink. "I'm just as surprised as you are. I feel sorry for that broad he's getting hitched to."

"So do I," Lillian murmured.

She wasn't surprised that Beni was getting married, and yet she couldn't believe it. He had been a rich man for less than two months and he was already getting married.

"Hey," said Rick.

Lillian looked up at him and knew she _was_ a fool for letting the news affect her. It was only a silly engagement involving a man she despised. It didn't concern her at all.

"You okay?" Rick asked.

"I can't stay here, Rick," said Lillian.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't stay in Egypt anymore. I want to go to America, like I planned to do ages ago."

"I'm not gonna stop you," said Rick.

"Do you think I should go?"

"You've gotta do what makes you happy. But Lil..." Rick grabbed the newspaper announcing Beni's engagement. "Don't leave 'cause of this. Don't let Beni chase you away."

"I've been thinking about leaving for a while now," said Lillian. "I didn't think I could ever bring myself to do it, but now... now I feel like I have to get out or I'll go mad. I can't stay here and watch him be successful, Rick. It hurts too much."

She couldn't watch Beni lavish money on his elaborate Jewish wedding and gain more undeserved publicity. She couldn't watch him parade around in his Rolls Royce with his wife in the passenger seat, their pack of spoiled children heaped in the backseat like a horde of princes and princesses. She couldn't watch him enjoy all the things she couldn't give him, all the things she _wouldn't _give him, because it reminded her too much of the ache in her chest that refused to go away whenever she remembered the time they spent together. It wasn't always terrible. Beni used her and hated to take baths and wouldn't pick up after himself, but he listened when she read him Shakespeare and made the funniest comments on the language. He drove away her loneliness by coming back to her again and again, unable to stay away from the comforts she offered him freely. He could be pleasant sometimes, in his own way, and it was those pleasant moments that always kept her from kicking him into the street and changing the lock on her door.

It wasn't all bad, but it was bad enough, and she couldn't stand feeling like she had failed. She couldn't help getting annoyed that Beni had replaced her so quickly. She couldn't stop wondering if this new woman, this future bride of the great Beni Gabor, would succeed where Lillian had failed so miserably.

The newspaper provided a photograph of Beni's fiancee, but Lillian didn't recognize the dark-haired woman in the picture and had never heard of Miriam "Mimi" Feldman of New York. The future Mrs. Gabor wasn't the glittering heiress Lillian expected Beni to marry. Miss Feldman's father used to own a bakery on the Lower East Side, before he sold the shop and retired to a warmer climate, and Miss Feldman herself was a shopgirl who worked in a Manhattan department store. She sounded like the most typical of gold diggers, too dazzled by money to care what sort of person she was marrying, and Lillian wanted more than ever to disappear. She wanted to wake up in the morning without Beni's name and face all over the daily news.

All of this was on her mind as she sat there with her unfinished drink in her hand, but she couldn't put it into words. She didn't need to. Rick seemed to understand her need for escape. He knew what it was like to be restless and discontent, to feel like the old familiar city had become a cage.

"So what are you, uh, gonna do over in America?" he asked.

"I've got family in Boston," said Lillian. "I think they'd be happy to see me."

"What about being an actress? You still gonna give that a try?"

"Maybe," was all Lillian could say. For years she wanted to be on the stage because she longed to be someone else. Now she wanted nothing more than to find out who she was and what she truly wanted. "I'll probably be spending most of my time wandering about, gaping at everything like the worst kind of tourist. And I'll finally get to see what a real, actual winter feels like."

"You want the truth about winters?" said Rick. "They're miserable."

Lillian smiled. "I look forward to it."

"So I guess this is goodbye."

It wasn't the first time they had said goodbye to each other. It probably wouldn't be the last. After watching Rick walk in and out of her life countless times, Lillian was finally the one leaving, and something inside her broke when she heard the word _goodbye_ leave Rick's mouth. She got up from her seat and hurried to him, sinking down beside Rick so she could put her arms around him.

"You'll help me pack up my things, won't you?" she asked.

Rick gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Of course."

And that was all she needed to hear. That was all she needed on that warm, sunny morning as the last bit of darkness crept away.

She was leaving. She was free.

She no longer wanted to be a creature of the night.


End file.
